


Misinterpretation

by BadWolfBeauty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, British Men of Letters, British Men of Letters Being Assholes, Canon Universe, Childbirth, Coda, Doubt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Episode: s12e13 Family Feud, Episode: s12e14 The Raid, Episode: s12e15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, F/M, Graphic injuries, Guilty Dean, Kidnapping, Long coda, M/M, Men of Letters, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of Dubcon, Mentions of Rape, Misunderstanding, Mpreg, Offscreen Torture, Post-Episode: s12e12 Stuck In The Middle (With You), Pregnant Castiel, Sad Castiel, Spoiler Tags!, Spoilers below!, Supportive Sam, canon compliant through episode 15, enemies to allies to friends to lovers, enemies to lovers for side pairing: Samwena, labor, moderately graphic depictions of birth, no actual rape or dubcon occurs, prominent side pairing, self-hate, spoilers in tags!, witch!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 73,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfBeauty/pseuds/BadWolfBeauty
Summary: There’s a reason he doesn’t do relationships. There’s a reason he doesn’t say the l-word. It’s to keep him safe. It’s to keep Cas safe.And he’s broken that.For a second he doubts his instincts. Cas looks so fragile, so scared. Maybe it’s better that he has Dean to lean on.He’s wrong, of course. “Cas?” he asks.The angel’s head swivels around. His eyes are wet and red, and his breathing is haggard and uneven. His face shows sheer terror that Dean has never seen on him before. Not even earlier that night.“What have I done?” Cas exhales, and lead drops into Dean’s stomach.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

     Cas was two feet from the Impala when he collapsed.

     It was Dean’s fault, really, just another thing he could add to an ever-growing list of fuck-ups. There’d be no point in telling himself that he couldn’t help staring at Cas. Staring until his eyes fixated in horror on Cas’s shirt, the fabric shredded and bloody and covered in dirt, sweat, and Cas’s own insides that had been rotting out of him just minutes earlier. Letting out an involuntary gasp as his mind was suddenly flooded with too-vivid images of Cas dying in a cold, dark barn.

     But it _was_ his fault for staring. Because the way he felt about Cas was wrong.

     And he should have _known_ that Cas, always eager to please, always willing to bleed for the Winchesters, would misinterpret his shell-shock as disgust, and with no concern for himself, would brush a hand down his front, mojo’ing his shirt clean with a single swipe.

     All too soon, his eyes rolled back, and he fell to his knees, Dean reaching out just in time to grasp his shoulders and keep him from banging his head against the open door of the Impala.

     “Jesus, Cas,” he had said once the angel groaned and opened his eyes. “Why the hell did you do that?”

     Cas stumbled to his feet, swaying dangerously even within Dean’s hold. “I didn’t want to get blood on the seat. You seemed concerned.”

     Dean ran a hand down his face. “About _you_. Not the — just — _get in._ ”

     And that had been the last thing he had said. He had helped Cas into the passenger seat of his car, gotten in the driver side, and they rode in silence all the way home.

     Whether Cas had been too tired, or shocked, or angry to speak was a mystery to him. As for Dean, he was too busy turning over the events of that night in his head, from the terror of seeing Cas melt away on a rotten old couch, to the guilt of causing him to collapse in his arms.

     And now, they sit in the bunker garage, still frozen in their seats, neither knowing quite what to do. They’ve been there for five minutes, and Dean can’t work up the courage to do, well, _anything_.

     The silence is broken by the buzz of Dean’s cellphone on the seat between them. Dean doesn’t bother to look. He leans back and closes his eyes. After a moment, he hears a rustle as Cas reaches over to check for himself.

     The angel clears his throat. “It’s Sam,” he says. “He’s too tired to finish the drive tonight. He says he’s staying at a motel tonight, and he’ll be home early in the morning.” There’s another buzz. “He wants to know if we’re okay.”

     Something terrible clutches inside Dean’s chest and rises in this throat. He palms at his eyes, making a strangled sound, before tearing open his door and stomping into the bunker.

     “Dean,” Cas calls to him. Dean is inside before Cas can finish.

     He descends the stairs quickly, trying not to think about how Cas’s steps are much slower and more unsure than his own. He tries not to picture Cas stumbling down the stairs, weak from exhaustion, but determined to make contact.

     “Dean, please.” He makes a beeline for the fridge. A certain tension releases as soon as he pops open a cold bottle of beer and presses it to his lips. He gulps down half the bottle before Cas even walks through the door.

     “Dean,” he repeats, and Dean is so freakin’ tired of hearing his own name by now. Cas’s voice is small. “I — I don’t understand.” Dean shakes his head and stares broodily into his beer.

     Cas lingers in the doorway, unsure of whether to approach Dean in this state or to turn away. Dean personally thinks the latter would be better for the both of them. Cas hangs his head, but he doesn’t move away.

     “I thought we were done fighting with each other,” he tries again. Dean just turns his head and stares at the ground.

     Finally, Cas steps forward. He makes his way to where Dean leans against the counter and stands very close. Dean wishes he wouldn’t.

     “I . . . I just don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

     “Yeah, Cas, you did,” Dean barks. “You know what you did? You almost fucking _died_. I just — I can’t.” Fresh panic wells over him, images of Cas dying filling his mind. Cas rotting. Cas bleeding. Cas lifeless.

     “I assure you I didn’t do it on purpose,” Cas responds with a wry smile. It fades when Dean doesn’t crack a smile of his own. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

     “That’s the whole goddamn problem with you, Cas,” Dean exclaims, slamming his beer onto the counter. “For once, just once, can you please give a damn about yourself? _For_ yourself? Not for me, or Sammy, but for _you_?”

     Cas seems to crumble inwards. “I . . .” He sinks into a nearby chair, lost for words.

     Dean rubs his face, stubble scratching the palm of his hand. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, stepping away from the counter. “For God’s sake Cas, you wanted us to leave you to die alone in there.” Dean paces, gesturing wildly. “You wanted to fight a freakin’ Prince of Hell with a gaping hole in your side, and for what? To buy us a few extra minutes?”

     “Yes,” Cas says, as if it could possibly be that simple.

     “Like any of it would be worth it if we lost you?” Dean snarls.

     “I — what?” Dean makes eye contact with Cas for the first time since coming home. The angel’s lips are parted and his eyes are shiny. Not quite wet, but not quite dry either. Dean feels his own eyes betray him, prickling as they stare into Cas’s.

     “You mean too much to me, Cas,” Dean says, his own mouth betraying him as words he would rather keep inside come tumbling out. “I thought you’d finally learned that.” He turns away, ready to retreat into his room. “Sleep well. _I_ won’t.”

     As he steps through the door, Cas declares, “I meant it. All of it.”

     He swallows, tongue suddenly bitter and dry. “Meant what?” he asks, far too casually.

     “Don’t play stupid,” Cas says, and it’s the first time tonight that his voice has bite to it. “You know.”

     Before he can help himself, Dean comes back to stand out front of Cas. He stares into his piercing blue eyes before stuttering, “What do you mean?”

     Cas leans forward, stare intensifying. “Did you know I meant it for you? All of it? Not for Sam, not for Mary —”

     Before he can doubt himself, Dean yanks Cas out of the chair, and crashes their lips together. Cas is completely stiff against his body. After a moment, Dean starts to pull away, dreading that he somehow misinterpreted the situation. But just as their lips part, Cas comes to life and pulls him in for another kiss.

     “Cas . . .” he says as they separate. He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

     “I love you,” the angel grumbles quickly. “I love you,” he repeats, softer this time.

     “Me — me too.” Deep breath. “I love you, Cas.”

     With a gruff nod, Cas pulls Dean in for another kiss. His lips are dry and full, but with every swipe of Dean’s tongue, they soften and become wet.

     With a little grunt, Cas presses a series of hot, fast kisses from the corner of Dean’s mouth to the corner of his jaw. Warmth flares up deep in Dean’s belly as Cas makes his way down Dean’s neck. It moves itself lower as Cas starts to suck on his collarbone.

     “No,” Dean manages, and Cas pulls away, wounded. “Bedroom,” he says, and he scoops Cas up, ignoring the strain in his back as he does so. Cas has been through enough tonight. It’s time someone took care of him. Dean carries him all the way to his bedroom.

     Cas is on the bed for a split second before he lunges for Dean’s collar again, eager to finish what he started. His hands creep under the hem of Dean’s shirt as he sucks the base of his neck again and again and again. Suddenly, he stops and peels all the layers off of Dean’s torso. Dean is completely hard by time Cas is loosening his own tie.

     He springs into action, flinging Cas’s tie off the edge of the bed and kissing him hungrily after each button he undoes. Cas’s coat falls to the floor and his shirt and belt follow.

     Cas’s hands press into his hips, and he rolls them with a groan. He fumbles with the zipper of Cas’s pants, and soon those are on the floor as well. In a moment, his own pants fall to the ground, and his boxers follow immediately after.

     Cas grabs his length and he gasps, trying to control himself enough to slide Cas’s boxers off his lean hips. Cas lets out a little whine as he does so. Dean is satisfied to find that Cas is equally hard.

     Cas is long and pink at the tip. “Cas,” he breathes, completely caught up in the sight of the man that he has wanted for _so_ long.

     Cas strokes him, gentle and slow. His breath shudders at the touch.

     “Fuck me,” Cas says, as if he can just say that.

     Dean withdraws, suddenly in control of his own mind again. Because only a few hours earlier, Cas had collapsed in his arms, too weak to even clean his own shirt. “Cas, no. You’ve been through too much tonight. You almost died. Look, let’s just —”

     “Yes, I almost died,” Cas says sharply. “This is what I want, Dean. I’ve been waiting for this for years. Please,” he says, and it’s nothing like the dying request earlier that night, “ _fuck me._ ”

     Dean can’t argue with that.

 

     But a few hours later, he regrets it. After he and Cas had sex, he had been living in a dream world. It was sheer bliss to curl up with the angel, limbs tangled together as he dozed off.

     Waking up was inevitable.

     He isn’t quite sure what had stirred him, not at first, but it becomes abundantly clear. Cas is sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat. He draws in painful, ragged breaths, head bowed, clutching his belly desperately as he fights through tears.

     And suddenly, Dean remembers why this is wrong.

     He can see it all over again, Cas lying on a dirty old couch. Blood soaked through his shirt. Caked on his hands, probably still under his nails. Black cracks creeping up the side of his body. Dying.

     Cas seems to be reliving those moments now. And it makes Dean want to tear his heart out.

     There’s a _reason_ he doesn’t do relationships. There’s a _reason_ he doesn’t say the l-word. It’s to keep him safe. It’s to keep _Cas_ safe.

     And he’s broken that.

     For a second he doubts his instincts. Cas looks so fragile, so scared. Maybe it’s better that he has Dean to lean on.

     He’s wrong, of course. “Cas?” he asks.

     The angel’s head swivels around. His eyes are wet and red, and his breathing is haggard and uneven. His face shows sheer terror that Dean has never seen on him before. Not even earlier that night.

     “What have I done?” Cas exhales, and lead drops into Dean’s stomach.

     For a second he can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can’t move. Because Cas was weak, and scared, and vulnerable, and he took advantage of that. Guilt settles over him once more.

     Instinct kicks in. “This was a mistake,” he says, and perhaps it was a bit too brusque because Cas recoils like he’s been slapped. “I shouldn’t have . . . This was wrong. Point blank.” Cas stands, tears brimming over. He still has a hand cupped over his abdomen. Dean can’t bear to watch, so he turns his eyes towards the wall. “Look, you and I are both dealing with a lot of emotions. I’m not gonna keep you trapped like this. Not when you don’t really want this.” Dean forces himself to look back at Cas, forces himself to watch the tears fall that he knows are his fault.

     “Dean, no —”

     “It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay,” he says, but it feels like he’s reassuring himself instead. He takes a deep breath. “This never happened. And we’re never gonna talk about it. Okay?”

     Cas nods, a sob escaping and shaking his body as he does so. Relieved? For a second he stands at the foot of Dean’s bed. Then he scrambles to retrieve his discarded items of clothing.

     Dean squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to cry while Cas is watching. He doesn’t open them until Cas closes the door on his way out.

     Hot tears run down the sides of his face. He stares at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity before he drifts off into a restless sleep.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Be aware that this chapter has mentions of dubious consent and rape, but no ACTUAL dubcon or rape happens in this story.

     In the morning, Cas is gone.

     Dean finds this out as he is rudely woken up by Sam. He startles awake to find his younger brother shaking him by the shoulders.

     “Dean,” Sam says sternly. _Angrily_. “What did you do?”

     “Wha — what?” He glances blearily at his clock. Only two hours have passed since Cas left his room.

     “Cas just left. Right as I came in. Dean, what the hell did you do to him? He was a mess. He wouldn’t say a word to me. I . . . think he had been crying,” Sam says incredulously.

     Dean groans, fresh guilt washing over him and leaving him incapable of lying. “Dude, can a guy get some coffee before he gets interrogated?” he deflects instead, buying some time.

     Sam lets go of him with a huff. “I’ll make a pot. But you better get your ass into the kitchen by time I’m done.”

     Dean grunts something that sounds like “Yeah,” and Sam leaves the room.

     He stands up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. What did he do?

     He can still see Cas sitting up in bed, his naked body gleaming in a cold sweat. Tears in his eyes. Arms wrapped around his middle. Protecting himself.

     Protecting himself from Dean.

     Dean’s stomach flips and bile rises in his throat. He rushes into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face.

     His own eyes are a mess. Red and puffy. If Sam didn’t catch that, then Cas . . . Cas must have been worse.

     Dean holds back a groan and the new tears that threaten to spill out. Of course Cas had been worse. Because he hadn’t wanted this, any of it. He didn’t want to be with Dean. Him waking up in the early morning with a look of horror on his face had been proof of that. The fact that he _left_ had been proof of that.

     Dean wonders just how much of last night was real.

     Because he can remember. He can remember Cas looking at him in complete adoration. Telling Dean he loved him. Cas kissing him down his neck and fumbling with his shirt. Cas with his legs spread and a devilish glint in his eye as he said to Dean, “Fuck me.” And the angel had responded to every touch with absolute delight.

     But that didn’t add up. Because Cas’s face that morning had been entirely different. Dean wonders just how much he might have misread or even made up in his mind.

     Last night is a bit of a blur if he’s being honest with himself. He had been caught up in his own overwhelming emotions: grief, fear, love, lust. Maybe he had projected some of that onto Cas.

     He tries to see it differently, see it through unbiased eyes. The Cas in his mind is suddenly shier, coyer. His kisses are softer, more hesitant. He lets Dean take the lead. When Dean asks him what he wants, he doesn’t respond, he just spreads his legs a little wider.

     This image is broken as Sam knocks on the door. “Dean, come on.”

    “Okay, yeah. Coming.” He turns off the light, watching his reflection disappear before he walks out the door and follows Sam into the kitchen.

     Sam is kind enough to give him a few moments of silence to sip his coffee. It’s bitter, the same as he always takes it, but today he doesn’t like it. He sets the mug down with closed eyes.

     “So what happened?” Sam asks, all too soon, because Dean isn’t quite sure himself. “Did you have another fight or something? I thought you were over that, Dean.”

     The words catch in his throat. “Or — or something.”

     Confusion is etched into Sam’s brow. “Okay . . . what went down?”

     Dean struggles to find the words. He can’t just say to Sam, _I slept with Cas and now I’m freaking out because he really regrets it._ No.

     He settles for something more vague, more private. “I, uh . . . I messed up. Really bad. There were some things,” he says, drawing in a sharp breath, “that I misunderstood.”

     And now Sam takes a seat across from Dean, looking concerned because Dean doesn’t admit to mistakes lightly. Not without a fight.

     “Cas is struggling right now,” Dean continues, “and I didn’t see it. I got so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t pay attention to what he needed.”

     “Dean,” Sam says softly, “what happened?”

     Dean just shakes his head, and Sam thankfully doesn’t press, knowing that Dean is being far more truthful than usual already.

     “Look, I already did everything I could to make it better. But I can’t fix it. Cas probably needs some space. Away from me.”

     “That doesn’t sound like him, Dean.”

     “Yeah, well, this time is different.” But is it really? Because Cas never stays. And it’s usually Dean’s fault.

     Sam walks up and claps him on the shoulder. “You tried to make things right. You can’t do more than that.” He pauses, hand still placed gently on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

     Dean feels sick.

 

     Cas calls for the first time a month later.

     Dean is alone in a shitty motel room, getting ready to leave after a case turned out not to be anything supernatural. Sam is checking them out of the motel, and Dean is finishing packing his stuff, trying very hard not to think of Cas.

     He can’t quite believe it when Cas’s name pops up on his screen. He stares at it for a few seconds in disbelief before scrambling to accept the call.

     “Cas?” he asks, voice rough.

     “Hello, Dean.” Cas hesitates for a moment. “I thought about calling Sam. I wasn’t sure if this was okay.”

     “Yeah, Cas, it’s fine. You should call me.” He mentally hits himself. “I mean, you should call whoever you want.”

     “Oh. Okay.”

     There are a few more seconds of silence. “So,” Dean asks, “you doin’ okay?”

     “I —” Dean can hear Cas catch his breath and then swallow thickly. “I’m looking for Kelly Kline. I just wanted to let you know, I haven’t had much luck.” Cas’s voice sounds strained, like he’s holding something back.

     But Dean knows by now it’s wrong to press. He’s had a lot of time, too much time, to think about what happened between them. He knows it must be hard for Cas to call after everything.

     Still, he can’t find the right words. “Okay, well, keep looking,” he says, and he wants to punch himself. “I mean . . . It’s okay Cas. Just do your best, and let us know if you find anything.”

     “I will,” Cas responds, and it is quiet again.

     “Good. Uh, bye,” Dean finishes lamely and hangs up. He puts his head in his hands.

     Sam walks in. “Ready to go?” he asks, before noticing Dean. “Hey, is everything okay?”

     “Yeah,” Dean rasps. “Cas called,” he says, holding up his phone.

     “He did?” Sam asks with a smile. “That’s great. It’s a start. Uh, what did he say?”

     “Not much, just that he’s looking for Kelly Kline and he’ll keep us updated.” Dean is aware that his voice is raw.

     “Hey, like I said, it’s a start, right?”

     Dean looks at his shoes. “Right.”

 

     Cas starts to text every few days after that, but it’s always the same: always brief, and to the point, and impersonal. Sometimes Dean has the urge to scroll back through his texts and read the goofy messages from better times. His thumb will hover above the screen, ready to slide upwards and read words that are easier to bear. He ends up locking his screen instead.

 

    The next time Cas calls is two weeks later, when they’re heading out to Des Moines to investigate the slaughter of schoolteachers and scout leaders.

     “Cas, hey,” Dean says, trying and failing to sound casual. “Any news?”

     “Not really,” Cas says. “I haven’t been able to find much of anything.”

     That wasn’t what Dean meant, but he doesn’t want to push, so he says, “Okay, well, stay on it.”

     “I’ll do my best.”

     “You get any leads, you let us know, and we'll keep working it from our end.”

     “Okay,” Cas says, and he hesitates as if there’s more. In the end though, he just says, “Talk to you later.”

     “Thanks, Cas.” He hangs up, feeling completely dissatisfied.

     But he has no right. Because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he must have taken advantage of Cas. Cas had been willing, sure, but enthusiastic? Dean had kissed him first. _Dean_ had carried him to his bedroom. And Cas . . . just followed. As he always did.

     “Shit,” Dean breathes, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it because Sam is right there.

     “So, Kelly Kline is in the wind.”

 

     “Just hear me out,” Mom says, and it’s like a blow to Dean’s gut.

     “Wow, just wow,” he says.

     “Dean, what the British Men of Letters are doing — what we’re doing — it’s a better way. They . . . look, I’m not blind to who they are, or what they’ve done —”

     “When?” Sam interrupts, and Dean is grateful. Mom seems stunned into silence by this question. “When? When did you start working with them?”

     “Since before the lake house,” she answers, and Dean feels dread wash over him. “It wasn’t Wally. They brought me that case.” A vision of Cas flashes in Dean’s mind. It’s not the usual one with Cas curled up on the bed, curled protectively around himself. It’s him dying on the floor of the barn. And Dean is furious.

     He doesn’t know what to say, but he can’t keep words from spilling out. “You were working with the Brits, and you kept it from us. Cas almost _died_ ,” he spits, but a heaviness settles over him a second later. As if _he_ , of all people, has the right to be upset over something hurting Cas.

     But it still feels like a betrayal. And Dean can’t help but lash out. At Mary. At Sam. At everyone.

 

     After Dean makes amends with Mom and Sam, he finally calls Cas himself.

     “Dean?” Cas asks immediately. He sounds different. Rough, and out of breath.

     “Cas, I’m so sorry.”

     There’s a pause. “For what?” he asks. It almost sounds . . . hopeful.

     “Mom, she’s working with the Men of Letters.”

     “Oh. Why should you be sorry for that?” The question is followed by more of his raspy, heavy breathing.

     “Because _she’s_ the one who brought us to Ramiel. Because of them. She almost got you killed. And . . . I should have known, Cas. I should’ve figured it out before you ever got hurt. And now — well, she was in danger and I dropped everything to save her. And I just feel . . .” _Like I’ve betrayed you. Like I’ve wronged you in yet one more way._ “It was her fault, Cas.”

     “Dean, it’s okay. I’m glad you made amends with her. You don’t need to seek forgiveness for that.” He pauses. “Is that all? Because I should really get back to —”

     “When are you coming back?” Dean asks before he can help himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have —”

     “I’m not far from the bunker,” Cas says, and Dean’s spirits lift a bit. “I could stop by tonight.”

     “Yeah, okay. See you then.”

 

     Dean is an anxious wreck as they wait for Cas to come home.

     He relegates himself to the kitchen, preparing burgers for all of them to eat. His hands work the meat nervously, and he keeps glancing at the clock despite not knowing what time Cas is coming.

     Sam watches cautiously, shooting him concerned glances that Dean pretends not to see. But he can’t ignore how his heart pounds erratically in his chest.

     Dean is just putting the burgers on plates when he hears the bunker door close, signifying that Cas has arrived. He forces himself to stay grounded and play it cool as Sam goes to greet him.

     In a moment, they walk into the kitchen, Sam’s hand warmly on Cas’s back as they chatter.

     Dean can’t help but stare.

     Because there is something about Cas that is . . . different. And he can’t place it. His eyes rake over Cas’s body, knowing that something is off, but he doesn’t quite know what. Maybe it’s the way Cas is holding himself, or maybe he’s wearing a new tie. Or maybe it’s that Cas’s eyes look just a little more weary, a little more drained.

     _My fault_ , Dean reminds himself with a jolt.

     Cas’s tired eyes meet his own. “Dean,” he greets. He stands where he stopped. They don’t do their usual hug.

     “Hi, Cas,” he says weakly. “How’s it going?”

     “It’s not,” he sighs.

     “Here, Cas, wanna sit down?” Sam asks, and pulls out a chair.

     “Thank you.” He contemplates his hands for a moment after sinking into the seat. “Unfortunately, the search for Kelly Kline is not going very well.”

     “It’s okay,” Sam assures him.

     “We know you’re doing your best,” Dean says. “No worries. We’ll find her.”

     “Yes, well, I fear I’m not being very helpful. I’m . . . not up to my full capacity.”

     Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”

     Dean catches Cas’s eye as Cas glances at him. Cas’s gaze drops. “It’s nothing to worry about.” Dean feels fresh guilt settle within him with an extra pinch of pain.

     He tries to shake it off. “Here, buddy. Burgers up. Made one for you too.” He sets a plate in front of Cas.

     But Cas doesn’t bite into it with a smile as Dean thought he would. He blanches, stumbling out of his chair without even taking a nibble, and he cups a hand over his mouth. “Oh,” he says, muffled and straining. “No thank you.” He glances back at the burger and his eyes water. “Excuse me,” he says and rushes out of the room.

     “Cas,” Dean calls after him, but the angel doesn’t stop. “What the heck, man?” he asks Sam, eyeing the burger. He picks it up by the plate, sniffs it. “This look bad to you?”

     “No,” says Sam. “That was definitely strange. You gonna go after him?”

     There’s nothing Dean wants more than to follow him, but he doesn’t want to overstep Cas’s boundaries. Not again. “Nah. I’ll go check on him in a few minutes if he doesn’t come back.” His heart sinks. “Anyways, this is the best burger of the batch. Can’t let it go to waste. Want it?”

     “Sure. Thanks.”

     After a moment, once they are seated at the table, Dean asks, “Does Cas look weird to you?”

     “Uh, yeah,” Sam says after a bite. “He’s acting super weird.”

     “No, I know that,” Dean says, putting his own plate at the table. “I mean, doesn’t he _look_ different, too?”

     Sam shrugs. “I didn’t notice anything.”

     They eat their burgers in silence. Just as they are finishing up, Cas comes back into the kitchen, still a little pale.

     “Hey, man, you okay?” Dean asks, setting his plate in the sink.

     Cas gives a curt nod. “As I said, I’m not at the top of my game right now. But I’m fine.” He looks around, but avoids Sam and Dean’s eyes. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit in my room for a while. It’s been a long week.”

     Sam looks wary, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Dean, eager to please, says, “Sure Cas. Whatever you need.” He pauses. “Sure you don’t want something to eat first?”

     “I’m not hungry. Thank you, though.”

 

     It turns out that Cas is hungry, but not for burgers.

     Dean is woken up in the middle of the night to noises from the kitchen. He creeps out of his room prepared to strike whoever dared to break into their home, only to find Cas rummaging through the cabinets.

     Dean clears his throat, and Cas stumbles back in surprise.

     “Dean. You startled me.”

     “Looking for something?”

     Cas withdraws his hands from the cupboard. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have looked without asking,” he says, lowering his head in shame.

     “No, Cas.” _This is your home, too. You’re always welcome here._ “Take whatever you need.”

     “Thank you,” Cas says. “I, uh, wanted something sweet,” he says bashfully. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

     “It’s no problem. Take whatever you like.” Dean can’t help the bit of hurt that pangs at him, that Cas didn’t want a fresh cooked burger made with his own two hands, but he’ll search for whatever’s sitting around in their cabinets.

     _I have no right_ , he reminds himself. Cas doesn’t owe him anything, especially after what he did. He doesn’t have to eat Dean’s crappy burgers to earn himself a dessert.

    Dean watches Cas open their fridge instead, stripped down to just his shirt, slacks, and socks. As he stares at him, it becomes abundantly clear what is different.

    Cas has put on weight.

    It’s undeniable now, without the oversized trench coat blocking Dean’s view. As Cas leans forward, searching through the back shelves, Dean’s eyes are transfixed on his stomach. His belly pokes forward over the edge of his pants, fabric pulling in the middle. It’s not big, just a little round swell, but it’s there. Dean wants to press himself against Cas’s back and run his hands over the soft flesh of the angel’s tummy, to explore this new curve in his figure.

    He shakes his head, forcing his eyes away as his face fills with heat. He has no right to look at any part of Cas’s body. Cas can look how he wants, and Cas can eat what he wants.

    “Here, buddy,” Dean says, stepping forward to offer Cas something other than pain and trouble for once. Cas backs out of the fridge to look at him. “You want something sweet? I know just the thing.”

     He pulls a tin of pecan pie out of the fridge, and a container of caramel swirl ice cream from the freezer. Cas’s eyes light up as he sees it.

    “Here,” he offers, scooping a generous portion of ice cream into the tin. “My personal favorite,” he says, unable to stop a wink that is probably inappropriate. “Eat up.”

    “But Dean,” Cas protests, “it’s the last piece.”

    “That’s okay, Cas. You earned it.”

    That’s all the convincing Cas needs to dig in with fervor. Dean smiles, and Cas does too, mouth full of sugary goodness.

 

     By the morning, Cas is gone, and Dean wonders if maybe things hadn’t gone as well as he thought. Or even worse, that the night they had spent together months ago had been even more unwanted than he first feared.

     Cas calls again soon, though.

     It happens right after a case with a rogue hellhound. Dean and Sam have just arrived back in the bunker, a little shaken, when Dean’s phone rings.

     “I think I have a lead on Kelly Kline,” Cas says, not even bothering with a greeting. “She’s with Dagon, Prince of Hell.”

     Dean’s heart leaps in his chest, troubled by the thought of Cas facing the same class of demon that almost killed him.

     “Alright,” Sam says, “what do we know about him?”

     “Actually, it’s a ‘her,’ and not much,” Cas says. “Just rumors and stories. Dagon is known for her psychotic savagery,” he continues, and Dean flinches at the thought.

     “Great,” Sam says flatly. “So where’s Kelly?”

     “Well, she was in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. Now . . . I’m not sure.”

     “Alright, well, we’ll spread the word,” Dean says, finally able to speak. “Let us know if you find anything.”

     “Of course,” Cas says, and hangs up without a goodbye.

     Dean struggles for a moment, looking down at his phone.

     “He sound weird to you?”

 

     It’s almost a full month before Cas calls again, and Dean practically leaps for the phone when it rings. They’re in Missouri looking at a potential ghost case and it’s early in the morning. Dean is freshly showered, and Sam is getting ready in the bathroom.

     “Cas?”

     “Dean,” Cas breathes.

     “Hey, buddy, everything going well? It’s been a while since we heard from you.”

     “I was . . . busy. Trying to track down Kelly Kline.” Dean can hear Cas swallow thickly on the other end.

     “How’s that going?”

     “Poorly,” Cas responds quickly. “I’ve found nothing,” he says with a tinge of sadness.

     Dean takes a deep breath, unwilling to blow this chance to set things right. “Listen Cas. I’m really sorry about everything.”

     “Dean . . .”

     “What I did was wrong. I should have realized —”

     Cas lets out a choked sound. “Wait,” he gasps. “J-just a minute.” Dean hears what sounds like pained retching for a moment before the line goes dead.

     “Cas?” he asks, heart clenching in fear. “Cas!”

     He looks down at his phone. The call is still going. Cas has muted himself.

     “Cas?”

     After a moment, Cas’s line opens again. “Sorry,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m okay. Dean, I have to go.”

     “But —”

     “I’ll see you soon.” Cas hangs up.

     Dean rubs his face roughly. Cas’s reaction had been less than ideal. Terrible even. And it makes him question everything he thought he knew about what was going on between them.

     His blood runs cold at a terrible thought: Cas, in the kitchen, pulling away from his kiss. Cas in his arms, trying to get down. Cas, in his bed, scooting as far from Dean as possible.

     Is that what had really happened? He wasn’t sure.

     Sam comes out of the bathroom. “Hey, I heard you talking. Was that Cas?”

     “Yeah,” Dean mumbles, spots clouding the edges of his vision.

     “Whoa, are you okay?” Sam asks.

     Dean squeezes his eyes shut. His stomach rolls over and over. “Sammy, I gotta tell you something.”

     “Okay . . .” Sam says, sitting on the edge of his bed across from Dean. “What’s up?”

     He grinds the heels of his hands against his eyelids. His stomach does another flip. “I think . . . I think I raped Cas.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a day early because I won't have access to the internet for a while tomorrow. Enjoy!  
> \--------------------------------------  
> Oh, and TW for mentions of rape, but as stated earlier, no actual rape happens in this story.

     “I think . . . I think I raped Cas.”

     “ _What?!_ ” He looks up, expecting to see rage or disgust on his brother’s face. Instead, Sam looks completely bewildered.

     “I think . . .” He can’t bring himself to repeat it. Tears spill over the edge of his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

     “Dean, what are you talking about?”

     “After Ramiel, that night when Cas almost — when Cas was hurt, I slept with him.”

    “Okay . . .”

     “Except, now I’m not sure that he wanted it.”

     Sam’s expression hardens and his fists clench. He probably wants to hit Dean in the face, and Dean wouldn’t blame him, but he’s showing remarkable restraint. “What happened?”

     “We were in the kitchen, and I — I, uh, kissed him.” Dean’s eyes dart around the room, not sure where to look. “And then he started kissing back, so I brought him to my room and we, uh, did it,” Dean finishes lamely, ducking his head.

     Sam’s nose wrinkles in confusion, accompanied by a matching crease in his forehead. “That sounds . . . fine. Normal. Why would you think you —?”

     “Because I woke up that morning to find him crying. And he told me — he asked me what we’d done. So now I’m wondering . . . did I imagine it?” he asks, scared to meet Sam’s eyes. “Did I make the whole thing up, when really—?” Dean breathes deeply and rubs his face once more.

     Sam sighs and leans back, fists unfurling. “Dude, you scared me. I didn’t realize this was just some self-loathing crap.” He lets out a humorless laugh, almost just a huff of air. “I thought you were being serious.”

     “I _am_ being —”

     “Dean, for once just listen to me? It just doesn’t add up. Look, I know you’ve always been a bit of a, well, a sex fiend. But every time you’ve hooked up with someone, you’ve _always_ made sure they were equally enthusiastic. And you’ve _never_ taken advantage of anyone. Hell, even when you’re drunk, you’re a mess, yeah, but you’re perfectly considerate. There’s just no way.” Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean, you’re the one taught me about consent; God knows Dad wasn’t around to do it.” Sam shakes his head. “So when you say that as far as you know, Cas _did_ want it, but now you’re afraid you somehow got something mixed up . . Dean, you’re making stuff up to make yourself feel bad. Maybe Cas had a nightmare, or a flashback. He almost died, after all.”

     “So why did he ask me that, then? What we’d done? And why is he avoiding me? The only thing I can think of is that I must have done something awful,” Dean says, wiping at the moisture around his eyes. “Dammit.”

     Sam exhales, hands cupped around his nose and mouth. “Just a few days ago he called me. Said he missed you and thought _you_ were avoiding _him_ , and he wanted to come back to the bunker soon. And Cas . . . Cas has felt the same way about you for years.” Dean looks up in surprise, and Sam offers him the smallest smile. “Now I know that doesn’t automatically equal a ‘yes,’ but Dean, he told you he loved you in that barn,” Sam says, spelling things out for him like he’s a young child. “And Cas isn’t the type to just throw that out there.”

     “But the way he’s been acting —”

     “Is really strange. Agreed. But did you ever think that it might not have anything to do with you?”

     Dean blinks, not having considered that. The ugly images in his mind melt away, leaving him with just one confusing scene: Cas sitting in his bed, crying, for no explicable reason at all.

     “Clearly not,” Sam mutters with a roll of his eyes. He gets up with an audible exhalation. “Look, we have to get going to finish this case. I think that when we get back to the bunker, we should just call him. Talk things out. Okay?”

 

     It turns out that they don’t have to call Cas after all.

     The hunt had been difficult. One particularly nasty ghost had turned out to be two particularly nasty ghosts, and the second had thrown Dean around like a ragdoll as Sam scrambled to burn the bones. He now sported a few good scrapes and bruises, and his face was pretty bloodied up. They trudged into the bunker in silence, both tired. Dean’s entire body ached.

     He was surprised to find none other than Cas in the kitchen, waiting for them.

     “Hello, Dean. Sam,” the angel says. He is leaning over the counter, one hand propped under his chin, the other wrapped around a spoon as he munches on a brimming bowl of Lucky Charms. He doesn’t look up right away, concentrating very hard on his cereal instead.

     “Cas,” Dean says raggedly. “What’re you doing here?”

     The angel smiles a bit through a mouthful of food. He swallows and says, “I told you I’d see you soon. I —” he stops in horror as he finally looks up at them. “Oh God,” he says, and he makes a dash for the sink before half-digested cereal comes forcefully out of his mouth in a series of painful lurches.

     “Cas?” Sam exclaims and runs over to soothe him, but Dean is frozen in place. The look on Cas’s face had said it all.

     “Shit. I really did it,” Dean says, blood freezing in his veins.

     “Dean, no,” Sam protests halfheartedly, too focused on Cas to form a convincing argument.

     After a few more weak heaves, Cas stops, still bent slightly over the sink. “Dean did what?” he asks.

     “You can’t even look at me.”

     “What? No!” Cas exclaims. “It’s not you,” he says, reactively turning to Dean. “It’s the blood and. . . oh,” he murmurs, face going pale as his eyes rake over Dean. He turns back to the sink and vomits again.

     “Go get cleaned up,” Sam says to Dean, rubbing circles into Cas’s back as he gags over and over again, nothing left to expel from his body. “I got this.”

     When Dean comes back into the kitchen, still a little grimy but free from blood, Cas is seated at the table with a cup of tea in his hands. As Cas looks up at him, Dean half expects him to lurch over the sink again. But Cas just smiles at him with weary, hooded eyes.

     “Better?” Dean asks.

     “Yes, thank you,” Cas says shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry. The blood, it just —” He cuts himself off with a sigh. He scratches his head for a moment, then asks, “Dean, what did you mean when you said ‘I really did it?’”

     Dean opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. How can he even begin to explain?

     “You look really tired, Cas, and we’re beat too,” Sam says. “How about you go to bed now and we’ll talk in the morning?”

     Cas nods, lids drooping lower. He slowly rises from his chair. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow.” He shuffles to his room, and Dean can hear the door shut gently behind him.

     Sam speaks more quietly, now that Cas has left them. “Something is wrong with him. And Dean, I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

     “Okay, yeah, you might be right. The whole thing with the blood? Dude, we deal with blood, guts, and gore all the time. He’s suddenly sensitive to it?”

     “And did you notice?” Sam asks, and his face flushes a bit. “I mean, I don’t wanna say it, but he’s, uh, put on a few pounds?”

     Dean couldn’t _not_ notice. The last time he’d seen Cas, he’d looked a little pudgy. But that was nothing. Heck, Dean himself had put on a few pounds over the past year, causing his gut to hang over the edge of waistband from time to time. But Cas is now . . . round in a way he can’t ignore. Even the angel’s oversized trench coat can’t hide the fact that he now has what Dean might call a little potbelly. What had once been a little pull at the fabric of his dress shirt is now a strain on its buttons and seams.

     “Yeah, I noticed. Looks like he’s got a beer gut.”

     “I . . . Do we bring it up? I mean, he shouldn’t be gaining weight right? Could mean something’s wrong. And with the eating, and the puking . . .”

     And Dean is torn, because on one hand, if it were him or Sam, it would never be pointed out. You just don’t comment on a person’s body.

     But, as he remembers for the first time since he noticed a change in Cas’s shape, Cas is not a human. He’s an angel. And he’s not supposed to gain weight. Or lose any, for that matter.

     “Yeah, I think we have to.”

 

     The next morning, Cas pours himself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and sits down at the table, seemingly unconcerned by the way his belly spills into his lap. The brothers look at each other and give him a few moments to eat in peace before they start questioning him.

     “Cas, we have to talk,” Sam says. Cas lays down his spoon.

     “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

     “We’re worried. It seems . . .” Sam coughs nervously. “We just think —”

     “You’ve gained weight, Cas,” Dean says, heart dropping at the wounded look in the angel’s eyes. “A lot of weight. And it’s getting hard not to notice.”

     “We’re not judging,” Sam says quickly. “We’re just concerned. We want to know what it means.”

     Cas lowers his head into his hands and stays there for a moment. When he lifts it again, his eyes are red and rimmed with tears.

     “It means it’s time for me to leave.”

     “Leave?” Sam asks. “Where are you going?”

     “When will you be back?” Dean asks. Cas has already risen from his chair and is heading out the door.

     He stops and turns to look mournfully at Dean. “I won’t. I won’t be back. This is goodbye.” An unpleasant jolt surges through Dean’s body.

     “No, Cas, please—” Dean says, scrambling from his chair.

     “I can’t stay here, Dean.”

     “Cas, wait!”

     “Are you human?” asks Sam, and Cas stops.

     “Not yet. I will be soon. But this,” he says, gesturing towards his belly, “has nothing to do with that.”

     “Cas,” Sam says gently, as if he’s coaxing a scared animal towards him, “please don’t go. Talk to us. Explain.”

     “Cas, you gotta tell us what’s going on,” Dean insists.

     “I can’t!” Cas cries, swiveling around to face him. “I can’t because you _forbid_ me from even _mentioning_ it,” he says, staring at Dean with watery eyes.

     “I _what_?” He shakes his head. “Cas, no.”

     “Yes, you did. I was terrified, and I needed you. And you told me to get out. You told me that we were a _mistake_.”

     “What? Cas, _you’re_ the one who didn’t want that. You freaked out. You looked at me and — and asked, ‘What have I done?’ What the hell was I supposed to think?”

     “Dean is afraid that you didn’t want to have sex,” Sam clarifies. “He thinks he raped you.”

     “Cas,” Dean begs, “please tell me the truth. Did I?” There’s a million more things that he wants to say. That it’s been eating him alive. That he can’t go a day without having some sort of vision of him forcing himself on Cas. But that wouldn’t be fair to Cas, so he doesn’t.

     Tears roll down Cas’s cheeks. “What?” he whispers. “How — how could you even think that?” Dean opens his mouth, but Cas continues on. “I wanted you.” His nose scrunches into a snarl. “I _wanted_ you more than anything. I told you I loved you. _I_ initiated it!”

     “So . . . I didn’t take advantage of you?” Dean’s head spins from the weight that is lifted off of him.

     “No!” Cas shouts. “Why in the world would you think that?”

     “But what you said to me . . . You asked what you’d done. You were regretting it.”

     Cas draws in a deep breath, crushing his palms against his forehead. “You idiot,” he growls. “I didn’t regret being with you. I was scared.”

     “Yeah —” Dean starts, but Cas cuts him off.

     “Not of _you_!” he snaps. “I had _just_ realized I was _pregnant._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe
> 
> uh oh


	4. Chapter 4

     “I had _just_ realized I was _pregnant,_ ” Cas snaps.

     There is a long pause. “What?” Sam sputters. Dean can’t even speak.

     “I’m _pregnant_ ,” Cas sighs, sliding a hand under the swell of his belly. He deflates, suddenly small, except for . . . that. “As soon as it happened, as soon as she was conceived, I knew. I could feel it.” Dean stares at Cas’s bump in wonder, not even glancing over to see Sam’s reaction. “I was scared, I was in pain. When you woke up, I was just realizing what it all meant.”

     Sam makes a choked sound beside him, and all Dean can manage is, “ _Cas._ ”

     “I tried to tell you, but I couldn’t find the words. And it all happened so fast . . .” Tears are streaming down Cas’s face again. “I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you were going to kick me out, and —”

     “Okay, come sit down,” Dean says gently, hoping to slow Cas’s frantic breathing even though his own heart is practically leaping out of his chest. He wraps an arm tenderly around Cas’s shoulders and guides him to the nearest chair. Cas crumples into it, a tearful mess. “I’m sorry, Cas. I didn’t know. I saw you crying and . . . I panicked, okay? I thought I was doing what was best for you, but — shit,” he says, swiping at his own eyes. He wants to hold Cas tight against his chest, but he doesn’t think he’s re-earned that right.

     “I needed you,” Cas whispers. Warmth floods into Dean’s chest, but it’s an aching, shameful warmth.

     “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry if I tried. You shouldn’t have been out there on your own.” Cas looks up at him with watery eyes. “Shit, Cas, I messed up. Really bad. And I’m gonna do my best to make up for it, even though I can’t. I’m gonna look after you.” He bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth. He drops his head. “Look, I can’t blame you if you never forgive me, but—”

     “I forgive you,” says Cas, very quickly. As if it’s as easy as that. But when Dean brings his eyes up to meet Cas’s once more, Cas looks sincere. He stretches one hand out and latches it onto Dean’s shirt, wiping away his tears with his free arm. “It’s my fault, too. I should have told you.” His face starts to crumple again, but he somehow maintains his composure. “I just want to be here now. Please.”

     “This is your home. You’re staying,” Dean says. He bites back, _if you want to_. Cas wants to. He’s made that much clear, and Dean’s shitty guilt and self-doubt isn’t going to get in the way of that. “This is your home,” he reiterates instead.

     Cas pulls Dean down to his level, and buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean can feel Cas’s tears spill hot and wet against his skin. He brings his arms around Cas’s back, open, but sturdy, and holds him.

     “None of this is your fault, Cas,” Dean says. “It’s one-hundred percent on me. But if something like this ever happens again, you _tell me_ , okay? No matter how much of an idiot I’m being.” Cas doesn’t respond, but he does tighten his grip on Dean’s shirt. Dean stares at the wall behind him, brow furrowed by emotions he doesn’t quite know how to process.

     After a moment, Cas stills, and he lets Dean move back to sit on his heels. Dean stares at Cas’s face for a few seconds, a mix of affection and sadness swirling around inside him before glancing down at Cas’s bump, suddenly remembering what this whole ordeal has been about in the first place.

     “Wow, okay,” he says, eyes wide. “So, I guess that’s mine, then. Huh,” He can’t help the smile that tugs gently on the corner of his mouth.

     Cas slowly, cautiously brings a hand to rest on his rounded belly. He smiles sadly. “If you want —”

     Dean grabs Cas’s knee. “I swear to Chuck, Cas, if you ask if I want it . . .” Cas smiles bigger this time, a little playful. “ _Yes_ , I want it. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

     “But, Cas . . .” Sam says, stepping forward, and Dean starts, having forgotten that Sam was in the room with them the whole time. Heat creeps into his face, but he keeps his hand on Cas’s knee. “Isn’t it . . . a nephilim?

     Dean feels like the world has shuddered to a halt. Of course. Their whole mission for almost half a year has been to track down Kelly Kline and _kill_ the monster she’s carrying. And now Cas is carrying the same kind of monster. Dean impregnated him with a _monster_ , not a baby _._

     In a flash, Cas has scrambled out of his chair, and stands behind it, using it as a barrier between him and Sam. “No,” he growls. “She’s not a nephilim. And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter.”

     Sam puts his hands up and takes a step back. “I’m not going to hurt you; I just need to ask.” He licks his lips nervously. “Look. You’re an angel. And Dean is a human. Wouldn’t that make it—?”

     “She’s _not_ a nephilim, Sam. Nephilim are fathered by angels and carried by humans. She’s something else.”

     “Okay,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice calm and non-threatening. It’s a hard task when he’s this worried. “But _what_ is it, then? Sorry — she.”

     “ _I don’t know,”_ Cas snarls. “But she’s not dangerous. And if you two would just _shut up_ for a minute, I could explain why.” Cas looks exhausted, but Dean has no doubts that he could and would kill both of them in a heartbeat if provoked. There’s a fierceness in Cas’s eyes that he’s never seen before.

     “Okay,” Sam says, blinking rapidly. “We’re listening.”

     “No action,” Dean reassures. “Just talking. Promise.” He gestures for Cas to sit back down.

     Cas hesitates for a moment, but ultimately, he sinks into the chair with a groan, legs shaking beneath him until he’s fully seated.

     “You okay?” Dean asks, slowly bringing a hand to Cas’s shoulder as not to startle him.

     Cas nods and shifts in his seat. “Sore. Tired. But I’m fine.” He rubs at one of his eyes silently. His hand falls back into his lap and he stares at it for a moment. He takes a deep breath and says, “I visited Heaven recently.”

     “What the hell, Cas?” Dean breathes. “They could have found out. They would’ve killed you!”

     “No. They wouldn’t have. In fact, they might have known.” He pauses. “The angel Kelvin came to retrieve me. He was sent by Joshua.”

     “Joshua?” Sam exclaims. “Wow, been a while since we heard that name.”

     “Yes,” says Cas. “He prefers to stay out of things. But he wanted to see me. The other angels, well, they did look at me with disgust. But that could have just been for my previous crimes against them. I’m already hated there, whether I’m carrying a half-human hybrid or not. But I was unharmed,” he says, looking at Dean, undoubtedly in response to Dean’s hand curling more protectively around his shoulder. “I was under Joshua’s protection.”

     “What did he want?” Dean asks, his voice coming out gruffer than he expected.

     “To talk. To explain the true nature of nephilim to me. They’re _not_ evil.” Sam and Dean look at each other in surprise. “Powerful, yes. Dangerous, no. Not inherently anyways. That’s not what the laws against angels procreating with humans are about.”

     “Then what?” asks Dean.

     “To protect you: humans. Not from nephilim, but from angels.” Cas sighs. “Joshua explained to me, before these laws were in place, angels would mate with humans as a show of power. They would take the offspring from their mothers, abandoning the women who had grown to trust them, and raise the children to be warriors. The nephilim would fight one another, usually to the death. Some angels would sire near armies of them.

     “This was in the time when God had just left. Heaven was in chaos. It was a horrifying, unprecedented power-struggle, and the number of nephilim just kept increasing as more angels realized what they could do with that power. The destruction was extensive and devastating, not just in casualties, but in the mental toll it took on the abused nephilim and the abandoned humans who lost their mates and their children.”

     Cas sighs. “Angels don’t like to be told they’re wrong, as I’m sure you know by now,” he continues, looking between Dean and Sam. “So the new laws were blamed on the nephilim themselves. They were said to be the monsters, even though it was really the angels who had reared them that were at fault.”

     The brothers are silent as they take in the flood of new information. “So . . .” Sam says, “I guess the hunt for Kelly Kline is off.”

     “No,” Cas responds. “It’s just changed. Joshua says she still needs to be found, otherwise Dagon _could_ raise the child to be evil. But there are no longer plans to kill it. And . . .” he trails off, shaking his head.

     “And what?” Dean prods.

     Cas rolls his eyes. “Joshua says he wants me off her trail. The other angels will handle it. He wants me to rest, prepare for my own delivery. He’s wrong, of course,” he grunts. “I should—”

     “No, he’s right,” Dean says. “You’ve been out on your own too long; my fault, I know,” he concedes, hands raised in an apologetic gesture, “but now it’s time for you to rest.” The hand that was on Cas’s shoulder finds its way back to the same spot. “Sam and I will deal with this. Or the angels. You need to stay out of it and stay well. Gotta keep you and the kid healthy.”

     A strained look crosses over Cas’s face, and he opens his mouth to reply, but Sam interjects, “So you’re not carrying a nephilim, but then what is it exactly?”

     Cas sighs. “Well, she’s an angel-human hybrid, but there isn’t really a name. There’s never been a child born from an angel before, or if there was, it wasn’t documented. I didn’t even realize it was possible.” He looks down at his bump, and slides a hand across the rounded surface.

     “Wait, are you telling me you’re the first angel to ever get knocked up?” Dean asks, forehead wrinkling. “Why?”

     “Most angels would see it as shameful. Certainly more shameful than fathering a child with a human. I don’t,” Cas says, smiling slightly at Dean, “but most angels see humans as below them. Subservient. They wouldn’t put in the work of carrying a child themselves if a human could do it for them.”

     “Wait,” Dean says, a chilling thought crossing his mind, “could you get _me_ pregnant?” As much as Dean cares for Cas, he can’t say he’d be too pleased if the roles were reversed.

     “No,” Cas replies, a smirk dancing across his features. “You are human and male. The only reason I assume this is possible is because I’m an angel . . . Well, _was_ an angel.” Cas’s look turns slightly sour.

     “Yeah, Cas, about that,” asks Sam, “What’s going on? You said you’re becoming human? How?”

     “You were right,” Cas says, looking between them with a sad smile, but settling on Dean, “about cosmic consequences.”

     “This is because of the whole thing with Billie?” Dean asks. Cas nods slowly. “Jesus, Cas, I’m sorry. Are you fully human?

     “Not yet,” says Cas, “but soon. I’m at peace with it, though. I’m just happy to be . . . home,” he says, pronouncing the last word as if he’s trying it out for the first time. He seems to like it, because it settles in the ghost of a smile on the edges of his lips.

     Sam laughs. “Yeah, me too, man. It’s good to have you back. Plus one, I guess.” A grin cracks on his face. “And Dean, who knew that you’d be a dad? I mean, I kinda thought you’d be a crazy bachelor ‘til the end.”

     “Guess I’m going domestic,” Dean replies, an equal grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Cas, I guess you and I will be raising a little rugrat soon. We’ll let Sam take care of the dirty diapers though.” But Cas’s expression has fallen into the same strained look from earlier, and his eyes are glistening with unshed tears again. “Cas? Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean asks, sliding his hand down Cas’s arm as he kneels at his feet.

     “I don’t think you understand,” Cas says, shaking his head. He grasps Dean’s hand and squeezes gently.

     “Understand what?”

     “Dean,” he says softy, “I’m not going to survive this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well shit


	5. Chapter 5

     “Dean, I’m not going to survive this,” Cas says, and Dean’s heart might as well have stopped inside his chest.

     “What do you mean you’re not going to survive this?” Dean asks, loud and angry, and Cas flinches at his tone.

     “If I had all my grace, I’d probably be fine. Or if I had taken a female vessel. But by the end of this, I’m going to be human and male.” Cas shakes his head. “This body wasn’t made for this. I’m dying.”

     “Like shit, you are, Cas!” Dean stomps away and tears at his hair, pulling at it so tight that his scalp lights up in pain. “No, you’re not doing this. You can’t have that baby.”

     “Yes, Dean, I will,” Cas grates, standing slowly from the chair with one hand splayed protectively across his stomach. “I’m not going to kill her.”

     “But she — it’s killing _you._ You can’t do this,” Dean barks, pacing the floor. “I can’t lose you.”

     “You’re going to have to. I’ve made up my mind, if it’s not already clear to you,” Cas retorts.

     Dean slams his fist on the table, rage tearing at his insides. “Dammit, Cas, this isn’t a game! You even know what that’s gonna do to me?”

     “Do you know what it’s going to do to _me_ if she dies for my sake? Think about what you’re asking of me, Dean. Do you really want to kill our daughter?”

     Dean opens his mouth to say, _yes, if that’s what it takes,_ but he can’t. He tilts his head back and takes a painful breath. Because the answer is no. Ever since Cas told him of his child’s existence, he has felt a certain pull. There’s an urge to protect, not just Cas, but her, at all costs. He’s sure that Cas feels the same, even more so.

     “It’s been what? About four months?”

     “Almost five now,” Cas says.

     “Dammit,” he says. “Dammit!” He storms over to the counter and shoves everything off the surface. Wooden objects, plastic bottles, various pieces of junk all clatter to the ground. He opens a drawer and slams it repeatedly until he can feel some of the anger seep out of his bones, exhaustion taking its place. He gives one last shove to the drawer for good measure before putting his elbows on the counter and cradling his head in his hands.

     It takes him more than a few moments to compose himself. When he finally looks up, Cas is standing behind Sam, looking very wary.

     “’M sorry,” he rasps. “I’m done.” He sinks into a chair. “You’re right, we can’t—” He swallows, and Cas takes a step towards him. “Okay, then what? Because you’re not dying, Cas. It’s not happening.”

     Cas shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anything we can do.” He sighs, looking to the side. “I know it may sound strange, but I’m fine. I’m at peace with it.” He smiles wistfully, but his eyes are tired.

     “Okay, but we’re not, Cas,” Sam says finally. Dean looks up at him and notices how he stands very tensely, shoulders broad. “We’re not okay with you dying. So the question is, how do we stop it? Without killing the baby.”

     Cas leans against the table, shaking his head once more. “I hardly know anything more than you do. This hasn’t been done before. There’s no precedent to look at, no instructions to follow.”

     “So we make it up as we go along,” Dean says. “And we don’t give up. We start looking today for answers. We look all day, everyday. Four months isn’t a long time,” he says, sucking in a breath as the reality of the situation stirs fresh panic in him, “but it’s something.”

     “Dean’s right. Look, we’re sitting on possibly the biggest wealth of supernatural knowledge in the _world_. If there’s anything that can help, we’ll find it here.” Sam strokes a finger across his chin in thought. “We have a huge section on angels that I just finished reorganizing. I have a few texts in mind that would be a good place to start. I’ll go pull them, and you guys can finish up with breakfast.”

     Dean turns to Cas to find that his eyes are bright and shiny. “Thank you,” he whispers, looking up at Sam in awe.

     “You’re family, Cas. I want you to live, okay?” Sam asks, collecting Cas into a firm hug. Cas curls his hands around the lapels of Sam’s shirt.

     As they separate, Sam beckons Dean over to him. They walk to the door together.

     “Dude, you’ve been a jerk,” Sam whispers to Dean. “Not just that thing months ago, but today, making Cas feel bad for dying. It’s not like he wants to, okay? So you better make it up to him.”

     Dean ducks his head. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

     “Don’t tell it to me; tell it to him.” He claps Dean on the shoulder, and says at a normal volume, “See you guys in a few.”

     Dean turns back to Cas as Sam leaves. He gives him an awkward smile and snakes an arm around his back. “Okay, you finish eating. Can’t have you going hungry.”

     “I thought I was getting too fat?” Cas asks with fake indignation, unable to keep mirth from sparkling in his eyes.

     “Yeah, well, uh . . . that was before Sam and I knew you were growing a-whole-nother person,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He pushes the unfinished bowl of cereal towards Cas, silently willing away the flush in his cheeks. “ _Eat._ ”

     It doesn’t take Cas any more convincing than that for him to dig in with fervor.

     “Y’know,” Dean says after a moment, “you’re kinda small for five months. Maybe we should add some toast to that.”

     “I assure you I am consuming the appropriate amount of calories.” Cas smiles. “Besides, I like this cereal.”

     Dean lets out a small chuckle. “Fruity pebbles? Lucky charms? Guess this baby has a sweet tooth.” The smile fades from his face. “Uh, listen Cas,” he says, scratching the back of his head, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I know it’s gotta be hard on you—”

     “Dean. It’s okay.” Cas chews his food pensively, and then looks down, shaking his head. “We’re both at fault. You had a right to know.” Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Cas cuts him off. “Yes, you did. Regardless of our misunderstanding. And she deserved better from me too,” he says, gently stroking the curve of his belly. “This whole time, I should have been trying harder to survive, to stay alive for her.”

     Dean sighs. “I don’t know what to say, Cas. Yeah, I wish you would’ve. I wish we could have been on this months ago and not scrambling to figure this out. But we’re not out of time, okay? It’s not over yet.”

     Cas locks onto Dean’s eyes with an intense gaze. “I will try,” he says, a slight waver in his voice. “I promise I will try my best to stay alive. I won’t give up.”

     “I won’t either,” Dean responds softly. His hand moves to stroke Cas’s back, an affectionate and familiar gesture. It hovers inches from Cas’s coat before Dean comes to his senses and lets it drop to his side. “Now, eat,” he says, a bit gruffer, “and I'll get this mess cleaned up.” He walks over to where he flung items from the counter with a pink tinge filling his cheeks.

 

     The first day of research is wholly unsuccessful, to Dean’s dismay. He knows it’s unlikely to find what they’re looking for right away, but he can’t help but remember that every second is a second closer to Cas’s death. He flips through pages and pages of thick, musty books, getting more and more irritated at every crinkle of the yellowed pages.

     Sam is more controlled than he is, but still worried. He moves at a speed much faster than usual, and Dean can see the difference between learning for pleasure and learning for a life-or-death situation. Sam scribbles furiously on a legal pad, adding unintelligible notes (at least to Dean) between lines, crossing things out, and marking down different titles and pages. Every now and then he looks disapprovingly at Dean’s own method of earmarking the pages and writing in the margins of the books themselves, but he says nothing.

     Cas, on the other hand, is the vision of serenity. If he’s worried about his impending fate, he’s not showing it. He reads quickly, but he takes notes very slowly and carefully, much more legible than Sam’s or Dean’s. Most of the time he keeps one hand rested on the gentle curve of his belly, running his palms gently across the surface. The only thing that keeps Dean from staring is the worry tightening in his throat.

     Cas is a focused reader, but he needs frequent breaks. More than a few times, he gets up without a word and returns with a handful of something to snack on, usually cookies, but one time an apple at Sam’s insistence. Every now and then, he sits up with a hitched breath, both hands grasping the underside of his swollen abdomen. The first time it happens, Dean barks, “What’s wrong?” and Cas’s reply of “I’m fine. I just need to stretch,” does little to calm him. He watches carefully as Cas paces slowly around the room, massaging his belly gently. He observes with a watchful eye until Cas sits back down, admittedly looking more comfortable than before. After that, he only glances with a concerned frown each time it happens.

     Cas is also apparently _not_ out of his morning sickness stage. Twice during their long day of research he jumps up suddenly and rushes out of the room, Dean hot on his heels. Both times he finds him hunched over the toilet in the adjacent bathroom, retching painfully. Dean stands there awkwardly with a hand on his back and gets him a glass of water when he’s done.

     A little past eight o’ clock, Cas proclaims that he’s done for the day. “I can’t sit like this any longer,” he says, standing to stretch his back. Dean is transfixed by the way his stomach arches outwards as he does so. “I’m sorry.”

     “It’s fine,” Sam says, shaking Dean out of his stupor. “It’s been a long day. For all of us.” He glances at his watch. “How about a late dinner, then a good night’s sleep?”

     “I’m eager to engage in both of those activities,” Cas says, and Dean can’t help but smile.

 

     After they’ve eaten and cleaned up in the kitchen, Dean realizes he may have not made some things clear to Cas. The angel (who he suddenly remembers won’t be an angel for much longer) stands in the hall, hesitating outside the door to his bedroom, his eyes turned to Dean’s instead.

     Dean clears his throat, earning Cas’s attention. “Hey, Cas. Uh, going to bed?”

     “Yes,” Cas says, “I am quite tired.” Dean nods in agreement. He can see the exhaustion in Cas’s eyes.

     “Well, you know you don’t have to sleep there, right?” Cas’s eyes are wide as Dean speaks. “You shouldn’t — I mean, you’ll always have your own room here. I wouldn’t want to take away your space or anything, but . . . shit.” Cas tilts his head, brow furrowing in confusion. With a deep breath, Dean steps closer. “What I mean is . . . Nothing has changed for me, okay? Whatever you’re feeling, you’re allowed to feel, but the way _I_ feel hasn’t changed. You get what I’m saying?” Cas stares blankly. “My door is open to you. Always.”

     “Oh,” Cas breathes, and in a moment, Dean has an armful of almost-angel. Cas squeezes him tight against him, and Dean feels his head spin as Cas’s warm bump presses into his own flat stomach. “Yes, of course. Idiot,” Cas mumbles.

     “Yeah, I am,” Dean says, wondering how he could have ever let Cas go in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah yeah, I guess I'll give you a break from all the cliffhangers. It's your reward for being such good little readers.


	6. Chapter 6

     Dean has never been a morning person, but in the past two weeks, it may have become his favorite part of the day.

     When Cas was gone, waking up had been torture. Every morning he had been ripped from blissful unawareness into the soul-crushing guilt of manipulating Cas into being with him.

     Of course, it had turned out that that wasn’t the case at all. The first few days, Dean still wakes up with familiar dread in the pit of his stomach, but it quickly disappears as he notices Cas’s warm body pressed reassuringly into his side. By the end of the first week, he is calm from the moment he opens his eyes.

     They’ve fallen into an easy routine. Dean is usually the first to wake, but Cas stirs only moments after. Whether it’s some freaky angel ability or just a sixth sense, Dean isn’t sure, but he certainly doesn’t mind. He scoots closer and buries his head in the crook of Cas’s neck as the smaller man mumbles, “Good morning” in the gruffest voice Dean has ever heard.

     On the first day, Dean had hesitantly placed his hand on the angle of Cas’s hip, but Cas had let out a dissatisfied grunt and grasped his wrist, pulling him in so that his palm pressed into the growing swell of his belly. Every day after that, Dean has wrapped an arm around Cas’s midsection without any prompting to caress his rounded abdomen.

     Then, they lie together in comfortable silence, smiling between gentle squeezes and stolen kisses. To Dean’s chagrin, Cas has begun to feel more pain since he arrived back at the Bunker, so Dean busies himself by rubbing soothing circles into Cas’s swollen tummy. He’s not sure that it does any real good, but Cas hums in contentment and lets out relieved moans as Dean massages the sore spots, arching his back in a way that his belly fills Dean’s palm, so Dean figures he’s not doing any harm at the very least.

     Cas is not a morning person, so after a while, Dean leaves him to start on breakfast. All things considered, it’s not a bad arrangement; Dean gets to prepare what he deems an adequate amount of food for Cas, and Cas gets to catch some extra rest.

     It turns out that although Cas loves cereal, pancakes are even more appealing. This is great news for Dean considering that he loves to make pancakes almost as much as he likes to eat them. He’s disgruntled to find out that their baby doesn’t like red meat (Cas’s vomiting had not been pretty when Dean presented him with a plate of sausage that morning), but satisfied at the ridiculous amount of home fries that Cas can scarf down in one sitting.

     Cas always arrives with perfect timing, likely enticed by the delicious smell of freshly made food. He pads into the kitchen barefoot, the crisp hem of his pants dragging on the ground. He looks more ridiculous every day, pants slung low on his hips with the waistband stretched to its limit, the buttons on his dress shirt straining. Dean has tried to convince him to change into something more comfortable, but Cas refuses, saying that there’s no real need for it. Dean suspects that he is trying to hold onto the last remnants of his life as an angel, so he doesn’t push too hard except for when Cas’s clothes seem to cause him real discomfort. He does insist that Cas strip down to his boxers and undershirt at night, but Cas is always fully dressed (and he certainly fills those clothes) by time he comes into the kitchen to eat.

     This morning, Dean is concerned by the fact that Cas isn’t already in the kitchen by time the food is on the table. He busies himself by pouring Cas full glasses of water and juice, and glancing back at the door. Just as he is about to go make sure Cas hasn’t keeled over and died, the angel shuffles in.

     He looks pretty terrible. His dark brown hair sticks up in every which direction, his eyes are bloodshot and baggy, and his face is hollow. He wears a grimace, and his body language confirms his discomfort; he walks slowly and gingerly with a hand cradling his bump.

     Dean hurries to pull out his chair. “Hey, you don’t look too hot. Rough morning?”

     “The roughest,” Cas confirms miserably. “I’ve already thrown up twice. And I barely slept last night.”

     “Nightmares?” Dean asks with a frown as Cas sinks into his seat with a low moan.

     “No, just pain,” Cas says, massaging the underside of his swollen belly. He inhales sharply as he fidgets in his seat.

     “Still hurt?” Dean asks, very concerned, as he kneels by Cas’s side.

     “Yes,” he grates, pushing his hips forward.

     “Hmm.” Dean leans in and releases the button on Cas’s pants. It isn’t an easy task, but after a few tries, it comes loose and Cas’s belly falls further forward, tan flesh peeking out from under the white of his shirt.

     “Dean,” Cas scolds, but his voice is less strained than before. “Did you have to do that?”

     “What? There’s no way that felt good, dude. Now eat up.”

     “You have no idea how difficult it was to put those on,” Cas grumbles, pulling his plate forward.

     “But does it feel better?”

     Cas pauses, scowling down at his pancakes. “The pain isn’t _gone_ ,” he declares, skirting around the question. Dean decides to give him that as a win.

 

     It takes Cas longer than usual to finish his breakfast, but he still clears his plate. Dean has already cleaned up most of the kitchen by the time Cas takes his last few bites.

   “Good?” Dean asks.

     “Yes, thank you. I was hungry.”

     “Awesome. Let me just take your plate and we can start in on research. Sam’ll probably be back from his run soon.”

     Cas nods and stands from his chair as Dean turns back to the sink. His head whips back around as he hears a clatter behind him.

     “Cas?” he exclaims. The angel’s eyes are closed, and he has a white-knuckled grip on the back of his chair, having clearly stumbled as he rose from the table. He’s standing, but just barely, clinging onto the chair for dear life. “What was that?” Dean is at Cas’s side in an instant, wrapping an arm around him to keep him upright.

     “I don’t know,” the angel admits, eyes still squeezed shut. “I felt a flash of pain, and then I fell.”

     “Are you okay now?” Dean demands.

     “Dizzy,” he replies weakly. “It’s probably nothing. I stood up too fast.”

     “Okay . . .” Dean says, but he isn’t quite buying it. He suspects Cas is hiding some of the severity of what just happened. “How about this? You had a rough night; you should be resting. Let’s get you back to our room and you can spend the day in bed.”

     “Dean, that’s not necessary. I can manage,” he claims, straightening up a bit, but he still looks tired and paler than usual.

     “You don’t have to sleep the day away if you don’t want to. You can research all day if you want. But I think that’ll be better for you. It’ll be easier for you to rest.” Cas scoffs and shakes his head. “Come on, Cas, do it for me. For my peace of mind.”

     “Fine,” Cas says. “But you’re being ridiculous.” He makes a point of walking back to their room without any assistance.

     A moment later, Sam walks in, sweaty from his run. “Hey, any breakfast left?

     “Yeah, clean pan on the stove, batter in the fridge,” Dean replies. He casts a worried glance in the direction Cas left from.

     “Awesome,” Sam says, grabbing the batter and a spoon. He looks around. “Cas up yet?”

     “Yeah, but I just sent him back to bed.”

     Sam’s forehead creases. “Is he okay?” he asks as he turns on the stove and goes to get a glass of water.

     Dean sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he says, absentmindedly scratching at his eyebrow. “He almost fell a minute ago. Said he was dizzy and in pain.” He pauses. “I’m worried,” he admits quietly.

     “Okay. We’ll keep a close eye on him today. Listen, I can clean up here when I’m done; you go check in on him if you want.”

     “Yeah, I think I’ll go do that,” Dean says, unable to deny the itch of worry that he feels.

     The lights are off in the bedroom, but Cas’s eyes are open, staring tiredly at the ceiling.

     “Gonna take a snooze?” Dean asks gently, sitting at the edge of the bed.

     “I don’t think I can,” Cas admits, bringing a hand to the swell of his belly. “She’s moving around too much.”

     “Is it usually this bad?”

     A look of wary contemplation crosses Cas’s features, as if he’s wondering how much he can keep secret from Dean. He shakes his head and sighs. “It’s been getting worse every day,” he admits. “I’m not doing well at all. But it’s never been like this before.” He looks up at Dean. “I’m sorry.”

     Dean sucks in a painful breath, but he forces himself to be calm and gentle. “Nothing to be sorry for. You just need some rest,” he says, shaking his head and wishing he could believe it. “Take it easy for the next few days and let Sam and I do the work.”

     Cas looks skeptical. “Do you really think—?” He cuts off at the sudden slam of something from outside their room.

    “Shit!” Sam’s voice echoes down the hall.

    “Sam?” Dean calls. Pause. “You okay?”

     Soon Sam’s sneaker-clad feet are thudding down the hall. Cas struggles to pull himself upright, Dean’s hand lightly guiding his back as he sits.

     Sam appears in the doorway looking sweaty and frazzled. “What’s wrong?” Dean asks.

     His brother fumbles his phone. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to do it.”

     “Do what?”

     “Mom asked what we were up to, and I didn’t even think about it; I just told her we were hanging around the bunker.”

     “So?” Dean asks.

     Sam holds up his phone. “So, she texted me back saying she’s in the area.” He looks nervously at Cas, first at his face, then down at his rounded stomach. He then looks to Dean. “She says she’s coming to visit. Today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummm oops.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! It was a busy weekend for me.

     “Mary is coming here? Today?” Cas asks with a frown.

     “Fuck, this isn’t good,” Dean growls, rubbing at one of his eyes. “Goddamn it Sam, why’d you say yes to her?”

     “It was an accident,” Sam says. “Look, I didn’t know she was in town. She just said she wanted to know what we were up to.” He holds out the cell phone to Dean. “What do we do?” he asks as Dean skims through the texts. “Should we tell her she can’t come?”

     “No,” Cas says. Both brothers whip their heads around to look at him in disbelief. “Let her come.”

     “But, Cas,” Dean protests, “What if she sees you?”

     “Shouldn’t she?” the angel responds, struggling to straighten up in bed. “She’s family.”

     “In an ideal world, she should. But dude, she’s working with the Men of Letters. Do you honestly trust them?” Dean asks.

     “We don’t have to trust the Men of Letters,” Cas replies. “The real question is whether you trust _her._ ”

     “I . . .” Dean is at a loss for words. He swallows thickly. “I . . . don’t know.”

     “ _Dean_ ,” Sam says, clearly offended by that revelation.

     “Look, I don’t _know_ , Sam! Would I trust her with my own life? Probably. But with Cas’s? With the kid’s? I just don’t know.” He shakes his head.

     “What do you _want_?” Cas asks. “Ignoring the Men of Letters situation, what would you _want_ to do?”

     “I mean, yeah, I’d want her to know. It’s her grandkid; that’s kind of important. But it’s not that simple, Cas,” he sighs, gripping the bridge of his nose. “Listen, forget about me. What do _you_ want to do? You’re the one who’s knocked up.”

     “I want her to know. I believe it’s important.”

     Dean takes a deep breath. “Okay.” He turns to Sam, who lets out a small grunt of surprise. “I can’t believe we’re doing this, but okay.”

 

     “Sam,” Mary says after dropping her duffel bag to the floor with a _thud_. “Dean,” she greets equally warmly as she hugs each of them. “You boys look tired for having a day off.”

     “Well,” says Sam, “we’ve been doing a lot of research lately. Y’know, there’s so much here we haven’t even looked at yet. We’re catching up.”

     “At least it’s some sort of a break,” Mary responds with a sigh. She looks around. “Thought you said Castiel was here too. Did he skip out?”

     Even though the plan is to tell Mary everything, Dean catches his breath, and his palms become sweaty. “Yeah, ummm, about that . . . Mom, there’s something you need to know. Actually, a few things. About Cas.”

     Their mother’s eyes go wide with concern. “Is he hurt or something?”

     “No, no, nothing like that,” Dean reassures her. “Well, he’s not doing too hot, but we’re working on it.”

     “He’s an angel. Can’t he heal himself?”

     “Yeah, uh, that’s the first thing you need to know. Cas is falling, Mom. He’s becoming human.”

     She presses her fingers to her lips. “Jesus,” she breathes. “No wonder you both look so tired. Are you trying to figure out how to stop it? How did it happen in the first place?”

     “You know the deal we made with Billie?” Sam asks.

     “And how Cas intervened?” Dean prompts further.

     “It’s because of that?” Mary exclaims. She pauses, shaking her head. “He can’t catch a break, can he?”

     “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been wondering,” Dean says with a quick raise of his brows. “And that’s just the half of it. Okay, you gotta hear us out, okay? Listen, you can’t tell the Men of Letters about this. I know that’s hard, but it’s really important. No matter what you think and feel about this. Cas is trusting you, and so are we. They _cannot_ know about this.”

     “Dean . . .” Mary starts, but Dean cuts her off.

     “No. There are no conditions, no take-backs, nothing. If you can’t agree to that, then you need to turn around and walk back out that door. You understand me?”

     Mary glances at Sam, likely searching for a more lenient stance, but Sam’s face is equally stern. “Okay,” she says, defeated. “I won’t say a word. I swear.”

     “Good,” Dean grunts. He searches her face for any sign of betrayal, but her expression seems sincere if not weary. “So, uh . . .” In Dean’s mind, this is the hardest part. “The second thing you gotta know is Cas and me. We’re kinda, um . . . A thing. Together.” Mary lets out a little snort and Dean’s face falls a little. “I’m serious. Look, I know you grew up in a different time, but—”

     “Dean, I’m not judging,” Mary says, a smile playing on her lips, and Dean deflates a little. “It’s just that I already knew.”

     Dean can feel a blush rising in his cheeks as he whips around to face Sam. “You told her?”

     “What? No! I didn’t. Mom, how did you find out?”

     “You’re kidding, right?” she says. “You’re not exactly subtle about it. The first time I saw you two together, I was already wondering.” Sam lets out a bark of laughter and Dean’s cheeks grow even redder. “What?” Mary asks.

     “Mom,” Sam says, thankfully speaking for Dean whose mouth has turned to sandpaper. “Dean and Cas haven’t been together for that long. You haven’t even seen Cas since they finally figured it all out.”

     Mary laughs again, and Dean cuts in. “Okay, okay, enough of this, you two. You get the point.”

     “Okay,” she says, hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I won’t tease. So was that all? That was the big secret?”

     “Yeah, if only it was that easy,” Dean says sarcastically. “What I’m gonna tell you . . . it’s big. And majorly life-changing. And really hard to believe.”

     “Dean, that’s our lives,” she says. “I doubt anything would shock me at this point.”

     “You may be surprised,” Sam says. “It definitely wasn’t anything we expected. Just . . . try to keep an open mind.”

    “Okay, look there’s no easy way to say this,” Dean cuts in. “No matter how I phrase it, it’s gonna sound crazy, so I’m just gonna put it out there. Mom . . . Cas is pregnant.”

     Mary scoffs and rolls her eyes. “After all that buildup, this is the punchline?”

     “It’s not a joke,” Sam says. “I know it sounds insane, but it’s the truth.”

     Their mother blinks, looking back and forth between them. “Holy shit, you’re serious,” she whispers. “He’s actually pregnant? How does that even happen?”

     “Angel,” Dean says with a shrug and a playful smile, but it’s the wrong thing to say.

     Mary freezes. “It’s a nephilim,” she breathes. Her eyes go wide. “It’s a nephilim,” she repeats, stronger. She shakes her head and starts towards the door.

     “Mom, no!” Both brothers start towards Mary at the same time and block the exit. “You can’t go,” Sam says. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

     “I’m not — I’m not going,” she says, running flustered fingers through her hair. “I just — what were you thinking?” She paces back in the other direction. “A nephilim. Do you even understand—?”

     Sam catches up to her and grabs her by the shoulders. “Mom, it’s not a nephilim, okay? Listen to us; it’s not a nephilim.”

     “But—“

     “If you can sit down and listen for a minute, we’ll explain it to you,” Dean exclaims roughly. “Cas is an angel, but it’s not a nephilim. They’re carried by _humans_ and I’m not the one who’s carrying it, okay?”

     Mary sits, but she still shakes her head. “But . . . it’s not human. Dean, it’s a supernatural creature. It—”

     “She’s not a creature, and she’s not dangerous. Mary, she’s your granddaughter for fuck’s sake!” Dean yells.

     She falls silent and stares at the wall ahead of her. Dean throws up his hands, exasperated, and begins to walk away.

     “I’m going to be a grandmother,” she says softly behind him.

     He releases a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Yeah, if you can manage not to go berserk and kill her.”

     “I’m sorry. I really am,” Mary says. “With everything we know about nephilim and everything . . . it’s hard to grasp.”

     “Nephilim aren’t dangerous either,” Sam chimes in. “We maybe should have started with that. Cas visited Heaven and spoke with Joshua. Everything we thought we knew, it’s all wrong.”

     Mary pauses, deep in thought. “So, Castiel . . . is that why he’s not doing well? Because he’s . . . pregnant?”

     “Yeah, that’s part of it,” Dean sighs. “Doesn’t help that he’s becoming human.”

     “Can I see him?” she asks softly.

     “That was the plan, if you think you can keep yourself under control.”

     “I will,” she says. “Look, I was just . . . shocked, really. I needed to process. I won’t hurt him, I promise.”

     Sam and Dean glance at each other. “All right,” Dean agrees. “Let’s go see him.”

 

     Cas is sitting up, waiting for them with his hands folded patiently in his lap. He offers a tired smile as his adopted family comes into the room.

     “Hey, buddy,” Dean greets, walking all the way to Cas’s side and placing a kiss on his cheek. “How’re you doing?”

     “A little better,” he responds. He turns his eyes to Mary who still lingers in the doorway. “Mary. Good to see you.”

     “Oh my God, you’re actually pregnant,” she says, eyes glued to Cas’s belly.

     “God had nothing to do with it,” Cas grumbles, but he glances at Dean good-naturedly and gives his shoulder a squeeze.

     “Jesus, you look terrible,” Mary says before she’s able to stop herself. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean — it’s just — are you okay?”

     “He’s fine,” Dean says at the same time that Cas claims, “I’m dying.”

     A familiar heaviness settles in his heart. “No, you’re not,” Dean argues unconvincingly.

     “You didn’t tell me that,” Mary says sharply to Dean. She comes over to the other side of Cas. “What can we do? There has to be something,” she says, placing a hand protectively on Cas’s shoulder.

     “I’m afraid there isn’t,” Cas responds.

     “We _are_ doing something,” Sam interjects. “We’re going through every text we have on angels. We’ve been working day and night to find something. Anything.”

     “And how’s that working for you?” Mary asks.

     Sam hesitates. “Not great. We’re still looking, but there are only a few books left on angel lore.”

     “So?” Dean says defensively. “We’re not just gonna give up. After we’re done in the Bunker, we’ll hit up libraries. I’ll drive halfway across the country for a one-of-a-kind 1000-year-old scroll if I have to. And then there’s the web. We’re not giving up.”

     “You really think you’re going to find what you’re looking for on the Internet if you can’t find it in one of the most sophisticated Supernatural libraries on Earth?” Mary asks. The three men stare back at her. “What? I learned how to Google. It’s not hard.”

     “So what? You want us to just give up?” Dean asks.

     “No,” she says. “I’m saying you need to try smarter, not harder. Look, the Men of Letters—”

     “For fuck’s sake! We’re not going to—”

     “Hear me out,” she insists. “Look, I’m not going to betray you or whatever you think this is. It’s just a suggestion.”

     “What do you have in mind?” Cas asks.

     “Cas,” Dean exclaims, exasperated, but Cas quiets him by placing his hand over Dean’s own.

     “We go to them and explain what you told me about Nephilim. We can get them to stop hunting Kelly, and we ask them to help us. They have so much information—”

     “And what? You really think they would go for that? You think they _wouldn’t_ try to kill Cas the moment he walked through that door?” Mary is silent. “The Men of Letters have a zero-tolerance policy on monsters if you hadn’t noticed. And I guarantee you that they would see this baby as a monster.”

     “Dean is right,” Cas says. “I appreciate your suggestion, but the reality is that the Men of Letters won’t understand, nor will they try to,” he sighs, placing a hand on his swollen belly. “It’s not worth the risk.”

     “Look, I think you’re going in the right direction,” Sam says to their surprise. “We need to start looking in other places. The fact is that we don’t have access to enough information. I’m not sure the Men of Letters would even be able to help if they wanted to. Cas says this is the first time this has happened in recorded history.”

     “You’re right about the Men of Letters,” Mary says, shaking her head. “I wasn’t thinking. I just . . . I want to help. However I can.”

     “You can,” Cas reassures her. He straightens up more with a small grunt. “Until we figure out a new tactic, there are still books to read. There’s a chance we could find a solution, or at least something to put us on the right track.”

     “It’s worth a shot,” Sam says with a shrug. “Mom, you in?”

     “Of course,” she says quickly. “As long as you need me for.”

     Dean’s heart leaps at the thought of their mother finally staying with them, being part of their family. “That’s . . . that’s great,” he says, feeling like his mouth is suddenly filled with cotton. He clears his throat. “I’ll grab your duffel, throw it into Cas’s old room.”

     “Sam and I can take you down to the library,” Cas says, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. “I’ll show you what we have so far.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” Sam says. “Cas has been compiling most of our notes since Dean and I apparently write like cavemen.”

     Cas smirks, but as he stands, most of the color drains out of his face.

     “Cas?” Dean says, noticing immediately. He takes a step towards the shorter man.

     Cas opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, his eyes roll back in his head, and he crumples to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, what you've been waiting for all week ;)

     For a moment, it’s just static.

     Dean feels like a billion bees are buzzing around inside his brain, blocking every single connector making it possible to form coherent thought.

     He hears his own voice and feels his own footsteps before he can even consciously command himself to do it. “Cas?” he cries, rushing to the fallen man’s side.

     “What the hell just happened?” he hears Sam exclaim behind him as he turns Cas onto his back. His head lolls to the side.

     “Castiel,” Mary calls on the other side of him. “Can you hear us?”

     “C’mon, Cas,” Dean growls, shaking him. “Don’t do this to me. Wake up. Cas,” he tries again, grabbing Cas’s chin.

     Cas’s brows furrow and he slowly opens his eyes, squinting into the brightness of the starkly lit room. “Dean? What . . . what happened?” he asks, trying to push himself up.

     “No,” Mary orders, her hand gently placed on Cas’s chest to guide him back down. “You need to stay there and rest for a minute.”

     “You passed out. That’s what happened, Cas,” Dean says angrily. “Jeez, don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?” Cas nods and Dean leans back, clutching at his chest where his heart is still beating a mile per minute. He shakes his head. “There goes ten years off my lifespan.”

     “You okay, man?” Sam asks, looming overhead. “You didn’t hurt yourself did you?”

     “Or the kiddo?” Dean adds with a flare of panic.

     “No,” Cas says. “My head is fuzzy, but otherwise I’m fine.” Dean frowns, and Cas spots it. “I _mean it._ I’m okay.”

     “Fine,” Dean grumbles. “But you’re _definitely_ staying in bed the rest of the day. Sam?” He says, grabbing an arm. Sam grabs the other. “Okay, we’re gonna go real slow and easy. Ready?” Cas nods. “Go.”

     The brothers guide Cas to his feet, who lets out a pained hiss as they do so.

     “Cas?” Dean barks.

     “I’m fine, Dean. This is normal.” He lets them lay him back against the pillows. Dean carefully lifts his feet onto the bed, eliciting another sound of pain from the angel.

     “That’s normal?” Mary asks. “Castiel, are you in that much pain all the time?”

     Cas raises his eyebrows and looks down at his swollen belly. “Yes,” he sighs. “Well, it wasn’t so bad at first,” he explains, looking up at her, “but this past week it’s gotten worse. My body is having trouble keeping up.”

     Mary’s eyes harden. “We need to find answers, fast. This isn’t a sign of anything good.”

     “You’re right,” Sam says, stepping forward. “We’re running out of time. Mom, you and I should go down to the library. Once I get you settled down there, I’ll bring something up for Dean to look through so he can stay here with Cas.”

     “And what about me?” Cas demands.

     “ _You_ are going to _rest_ ,” Dean says insistently, pressing down on Cas’s chest to keep him in place. “That’s the best thing you can do right now. Take care of yourself.”

     “Fine,” Cas grumbles, “but if I start to get better, I’m helping again.”

 

     Cas doesn’t get better.

     The next few days pass. Mary and Sam do the brunt of the work, and Dean alternates between doing research they bring up for him and caring for Cas, which mostly entails keeping him somewhat entertained so that he willingly stays in bed. True to Sam’s word, they run out of angel lore to read up on. Mary now looks through huge books with a lot of general lore and tries to find chapters on angels while Sam scrounges local libraries for books regarding angels that they may not have. Dean reads the Bible itself, looking for anything they may have missed. It’s a long read, and he’s also preoccupied by Cas, so it takes most of the week.

     The dizziness continues. Every time Cas rises from bed to use the restroom, he sways on his feet, but thankfully Dean is by his side to steady him, taking more of Cas’s weight every time, and trying not to think about how much he’s deteriorating. By now, Cas is on his feet as little as possible. Dean brings him all his meals to eat in bed, and he showers with Cas to make sure he stays upright. All the sexy implications of that are nonexistent due to the fact that he feels like his head might explode with worry.

     Still, Dean has hope that things might get better. Cas is sleeping well, eating well, and he seems to be in relatively good spirits.

     But in true Winchester fashion, Cas takes a nosedive.

     After a few days, Cas isn’t dizzy getting out of bed anymore. Instead, he collapses completely in Dean’s arms with a growing frequency, and the time he spends unconscious each time increases as well.

     He’s often fevered now, skin hot, and pale, and sticky with sweat. Dean does his best to manage the flashes of cold and hot that affect him with a fan and bundles of blankets, but it’s hard to keep Cas at a comfortable temperature. As Cas’s fevers get worse, so does his eating. He’s vomiting again, and by the end of the week, he can barely keep anything down.

     Dean’s presence is now less for the sake of keeping Cas entertained, but for making sure that Cas doesn’t outright die on him.

     And when it seems it couldn’t get worse, the pain swoops in as well. For the most part, up to this point, Cas’s pain consisted of a low ache deep in his stomach, and sometimes sharp jolts when he moved a bit too abruptly. But now he spends an alarming amount of time arching the swell of his belly into his hands and letting out low moans of pain.

     Today, Cas is experiencing this for the second time in a manner of minutes, and it’s about all that Dean can take. Cas’s face is scrunched up, sweat beading at his temples as another wave of pain washes over him. “Dean,” he grates, squirming a little. Dean wants to take every ounce of pain away from Cas, but all he can do is shake his head in frustration and let Cas grip his hand as he rides through it.

     After a moment, Cas falls back onto the pillows with a little sigh, and for Dean, it’s all too much. “Rest,” he chokes, and he rushes out of the room before he breaks entirely.

     Out in the hall, he wipes hot, bitter tears from his face. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair that Cas has to endure this, especially since it’s all because of some stupid deal that Dean made in the first place. He leans against the wall, pressing his palms into his eyes as if that can make it all finally stop.

     “Hey.” It’s Sam. “Made some lunch for Mom and myself. You wanna come eat?” Sam’s eyes are averted as casually as they can be, respectfully giving Dean emotional space.

     But honestly, Dean is too broken and worn out to even want to hide it. “No, uh . . .” He sighs, shaking his head. “It’s just — Cas. Y’know?” His hands fall to his sides.

     “Still in a lot of pain?”

     “Yeah. Maybe even worse.” Dean falls silent for a moment, scratching at a freckle on his hand. “I can’t take it much longer, Sam. We gotta do something.”

     Sam purses his lips and nods. “I know. This research . . . it’s a dead end. There has to be someone we can talk to who knows more about—”

     Cas lets out a horrible wailing sound from within his room. “That’s not normal,” Dean says frantically to Sam before running in.

     Sam yells, “Mom!” down the hall before following.

     “Cas?” Dean asks. The angel is propped up against the pillows and pushing back into them. He stares at the ceiling with pained eyes and lets out labored breaths. For a moment, Dean wonders if they’re back in the barn where Cas almost died, because he looks almost the same.

     “Hey, bud,” he says. “What’s going on?” His hand immediately searches for Cas’s, locking their fingers together.

     “It’s worse,” Cas grates. “The pain — I feel like it’s burning.” He lets out a groan, head tilting back to look at the ceiling again.

     “What’s wrong?” Mary asks breathlessly as she rushes into the room.

     Dean gestures to Cas with his free hand and shakes his head. Cas lets out another strangled cry, something between a scream and a growl. He falls back onto the pillows, breathing hard.

     “You’re not, like, giving birth or anything, are you?” Sam asks, and Dean bites his lip as he looks back to Cas. “It’s way too soon.”

     “I’m not in labor,” Cas grunts. “I . . . I can’t explain. It’s like burning, or stinging, or — I don’t know.” He pauses, pressing a hand to the underside of his swollen belly as he catches his breath. “I think it’s done.”

     Dean rubs his eyes. “This is too much,” he says. “We gotta stop sitting on our asses and do something. Or at least take a different approach. Is there anyone we can talk to? Someone we haven’t thought of?”

     Mary shrugs and sighs. “Other than the Men of Letters, I don’t have a lot of resources. I could try to get in touch with some old contacts, but most of them are probably long gone.”

     “Yeah, that’s a reach,” Dean says pinching the bridge of his nose. “Even if you can find them, how long has it been? Years?”

     “Decades,” Mary says. “Some of them I haven’t spoken with even years before I died.”

     “Even if you can find them, do we really trust them to know about Cas?”

     “You’re right,” Mary says. “I don’t know, Dean.”

     There’s a thoughtful pause before Sam speaks up. “Okay, maybe we’ve been going in the complete wrong direction.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Well, here’s the problem: Cas is pregnant and we don’t know how to deal with an angel pregnancy, right? But maybe that’s our issue. We’re looking at too specific of a problem.” Dean cocks an eyebrow and considers what Sam is saying. “Look, what’s the real issue here? Big picture.”

     “Cas is . . .” Dean can’t finish the thought.

     “Dying,” Cas says. Dean can tell that he tried to soften the word, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

     “Yeah, so instead of focusing on the whole baby thing, we broaden our search. Look for something to keep an angel alive, regardless of the circumstances of why they’re dying,” Sam explains.

     “What did you have in mind?” Cas asks.

     “Well, we’ve run out of angel lore, but we have plenty of books on magic. Maybe it’s as simple as finding the right spell and casting it.”

     “You want us to practice witchcraft?” Mary asks, an offended expression crossing her features.

     “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We’ve done a bit of light stuff in the past, mostly summoning, but something as big as keeping Cas alive? Should we take the risk of messing that up?” Dean asks, knowing full well that’s not the reason for their mother’s objection.

     “What if it wasn’t us, but someone more experienced?” Cas asks. Everyone turns to look at him.

     “You have an idea?” Dean asks, but he can already see that the answer is “yes” from the subtle glint in Cas’s eye.

     “Sam, Dean . . . Does a certain witch we know owe you any favors?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be interesting...
> 
> Funny thought: I went into this story thinking, "This is going to be a lot shorter than Cat and Mouse. It's not gonna be a monster of a fic. It'll probz be 10 chapters."
> 
> It's going to be more than 10 chapters.


	9. Chapter 9

     “Listen, Mom, you have to understand she’s not like other witches.”

     “A witch is a witch, Sam,” Mary responds, throwing clothes haphazardly into her duffel. “There’s no difference between any of them.”

     “Except there _is_ ,” Sam insists from the doorway. He moves out of the way as Mary pushes past him and into the bathroom, duffel unzipped on her shoulder with the sleeve of a flannel shirt hanging out. “Look, things are different now. I know when you were young there was pretty much black magic and that was it, but witchcraft has changed. Magic isn’t just about power; it’s about intent. Even Dean and I have dabbled before.”

     “Summoning spells aren’t ‘dabbling;’ it’s part of the _job_ ,” Mary retorts. She seals her toothbrush in a plastic bag and rolls it, tossing it a moment later into the side pocket of her bag. “Anything else is witchcraft, and witchcraft never leads to anything good.”

     “That’s just not true,” Sam says. “She’s helped us before. She’s used her powers for good. You have to trust us, Mom. We’ve seen it with our own eyes. Do you think we would lie to you?”

     Mary sighs and wipes her brow, pausing for a moment. “I think you boys have had to face some terrible events and you’ve had to seek out the help of . . . unsavory characters. And now you’re used to it. You’re not thinking clearly anymore.”

     “How’s this for thinking clearly? Cas is _dying_ ,” Dean reminds her, “and you want us to do what? Sit on our hands instead of using the _one_ asset we haven’t tried to use yet? There’s no time left!”

     “Look,” Mary says, “you’re grown men. I’m not going to stop you. But this doesn’t sit well with me, and I don’t want to be here when this goes down.”

     “Yeah,” Dean scoffs. “Sounds a lot like you’re abandoning us again.”

     “I’m not,” Mary says, zipping her bag shut. “When I’m back at the Men of Letters base, I’ll look for answers for you, anything that could help Castiel. And I hope with every fiber of my being that this whole witch thing works out. But it’s not for me. You have to understand that.”

     Dean’s hands are curled into fists, and he can feel a muscle twitching under his palm. Part of him wants to scream and throw things, but Mary’s face is sincere and worried, and he feels a certain kind of peaceful exhaustion spread over him instead. He sighs and says, “Fine. You at least gonna say bye to Cas before you go?”

     “Of course,” she says, pushing past him with an eye roll, but her voice is softer than before. Dean and Sam follow her into Dean and Cas’s room.

     “Mary. You’re leaving now?” Cas asks immediately. He is sitting up in bed, both hands cupping the swell of his belly.

     “Yes. I’m sorry,” she says, and she at least has the decency to sound apologetic towards Cas. “Listen Castiel, if anything feels wrong about this situation, anything at all, you get yourself out of it, okay? That goes for all of you,” she says, turning around. “I just don’t want this to backfire.”

     “We’ll be careful,” Cas says. “Thank you.”

     “I’ll keep looking for answers for you. Whether the witch works out or not,” Mary says, leaning in to kiss Cas on his cheek. As she draws away, Cas’s hand flies out and grabs her by the wrist, keeping her close.

     He blinks, clearly confused. “I — That wasn’t me,” he says, still pulling her closer. From where Dean is standing, it almost looks like gravity. “It’s . . . her. She can sense that you’re leaving.”

     “The baby?” Mary asks.

     Her question is answered by the fact that Cas slowly and steadily brings her hand to his belly as if in a trance, but he still absentmindedly answers, “Yes. I think she’s trying to say goodbye.”

     Cas releases her hand, and after a moment she draws it back towards her. For the first time, she looks unsure. “You take care,” she says tenderly, and Dean isn’t sure whether she’s talking to Cas, to the baby, or to both. She glances back at her sons and says, “You be sure to keep me updated, okay?”

     Dean nods, and Sam says, “We will.” With a couple of words and a few brief hugs, she is gone.

 

     It doesn’t take long for another guest to arrive in her place.

     There are three sharp knocks on the door, and Dean rushes to answer, Sam close behind him.

     “Ahhhhh, Winchesters,” she croons, green eyes sweeping over their bodies in a way Dean would mistake as seductive if not for being used to her mannerisms by now. “Gotten ourselves into trouble again, have we?”

     “Rowena,” Dean grunts, but secretly, he is relieved to see her. As much as it has had the opposite effect in the past, her overconfident demeanor is comforting. If anyone has the power to fix Cas, it’s her.

     She steps inside without any further invitation and gives them another once-over. Her eyes narrow. “You boys told me this was urgent, but I don’t see either of you dying.” She takes a step back towards the door. “This better not be a trap.”

     “No! No traps,” Dean is quick to say. Rowena looks at him suspiciously but makes no move to leave. Dean sighs and explains, “It’s Cas. He’s sick and he doesn’t have much time left. Not without your help.”

     “The angel. Well, that’s a surprise.” She makes her way to the railing and traces her fingers through the iron coils. “And why should I want to help the one who brought _Lucifer_ back into this world? I think you’ve forgotten that _you_ owe _me_ , not the other way around.”

     “We know,” Sam says. “We’ll pay you.”

     “We have something you want,” Dean clarifies. “Save Cas, and it’s yours.”

     She turns around, her eyes suddenly bright and her red curls bouncing on her shoulders. “The codex?” she purrs. “For the Book of the Damned?”

     “You know we can’t give you that,” Sam says.

     Her expression turns sour. “Then no deal.” She turns to leave.

     “Wait!” Dean exclaims. “We have something almost as good. Something I _know_ you want to get your hands on.”

     “I’m listening . . .”

     He and Sam have discussed it at length and decided it’s the best option, but it still feels wrong to offer it so willingly to the witch in front of him. He sighs and asks, “Still interested in the Grimiore?”

     “The Grimiore? _The_ Black Grimiore?” She smiles devilishly. “Well, why didn’t you just lead with that?” She drops her bag on the table, and it thuds much louder than it should for its size. “Bring him in and I’ll start right away. Gladly.”

     Dean rolls his eyes. “Okay, hold your horses. First of all, Cas isn’t getting out of bed. He’s too weak. So you’re gonna have to go to him. Second of all, you gotta understand that this has to be treated with discretion, alright? You blab to _anyone_ , and the deal is off. Capiche?”

     Rowena quirks a perfectly plucked eyebrow and straightens up. “Fine. I agree to your terms.” She pulls her bag from the table and follows Sam and Dean down the hall.

     “One more thing,” Dean says, stopping her outside the door. “Remember that Cas is dying. Just . . . don’t be inappropriate about it.”

     “Please,” she scoffs, pushing past him. “I am a professional — Oh my.” She stops and looks at Cas who is sleeping propped up on his pillows, clearly having meant to stay awake. It takes her a moment to tear her gaze away from his belly, noticeably round underneath the covers, and back to Dean. “He’s . . . pregnant?” she asks him. He nods with pursed lips. “But that’s not possible.”

     Sam clears his throat and says, “Well, clearly it is. You can see him with your own two eyes.”

     “So are you going to help us or not?” Dean asks gruffly.

     Rowena throws her head back and laughs. “Oh! You’ve got to be kidding me! Which one of you did it? Och, I don’t even have to ask; I know it was you,” she says, turning back to Dean. “It’s written all over your face.”

     “Yeah, it was me. Do you not remember what I asked you literally thirty seconds ago?”

     “Fine, I won’t laugh,” she agrees with a roll of her eyes. “So what’s wrong with him? I’m assuming if he can get pregnant in the first place, he should be able to carry to term with no problem.”

     “He should be,” Sam says, “but he’s losing his grace and turning human. He says it’s going to kill him. Can you help?”

     “Don’t get ahead of yourself; I have to examine him first to see exactly what’s wrong. Wake him up,” she orders. Dean giver her a disapproving look. “What? I know better than to poke a sleeping bear.”

     He sighs and walks to the side of the bed as Sam flicks the light switch. He leans down and kisses Cas’s forehead. “Hey, buddy, Rowena’s here. You wanna wake up?” Cas grumbles and squints into the light briefly before shutting his eyes. “Come on, you’re gonna get sore sleeping like that anyways.”

   “Fine.” Cas opens his eyes, though they remain squinting, and straightens up. “Rowena,” he greets, not exactly friendlily. “You’ve agreed to help?” He yawns and rubs at the sleep in his eyes.

     “Castiel,” she responds with a nod. “I have. You have to let me examine you, though.”

   Cas glances at Dean, who gives him an encouraging look in return. “Okay,” he agrees.

     “Lay down,” she instructs, and he obliges, but not without a wince of pain. She frowns. “Is that typical?”

     “Unfortunately, yes,” Cas responds.

     “Hmm,” she says, but offers no further comment as she digs into her bag. Dean bites his lip.

     She pulls a blue candle from her bag and places it on the side table. She strikes a match and lights it before sitting on the edge of the bed next to Cas.

     “Lay still,” she says. She stretches out her arm and presses her hand to Cas’s cheek. After a moment, she repeats it on the other side of his face. “Open your mouth,” she says, and when he does so, she places two fingers against his bottom teeth. He flinches, but allows her to do so. “Now close as much as you can, but don’t bite, or I _will curse you_.”

     “What the heck is this for?” Dean interrupts. “Can’t you do this without manhandling him?”

     She swivels her head to glare at him. “Haud yer wheesht, and let me do my job in peace.” He snaps his mouth shut, but he still can’t help but glower.

     Rowena takes her free hand and places it on Cas’s forehead, cupped over his eyes. She tilts her head back and closes her own eyes, as if she is listening.

     She stays like that for almost a full minute. Dean fights the urge to say something and tries to sate his impatience with disapproving looks towards Sam. Sam just shrugs, and turns back to watch Rowena each time, eyes wide.

     Finally, she withdraws her fingers from Cas’s mouth and her hand from his head. Dean opens his mouth to speak, but she gives him a look that clearly says, _I’m not done yet._

     “Give me your hands,” she orders him. She holds them oddly, thumb and forefinger pinching the palms of his hands, which are significantly larger than hers. She rubs her thumbs over the surface before examining each one individually. “Hmmm,” she says, letting Cas’s hand fall back to his side.

     “What’s wrong?” Cas asks. She squints back at him. “You seem displeased.”

     “Something’s not adding up,” she says. She pulls back the covers and brings her fingers to the hem of Cas’s shirt. “May I?”

     He nods, and she pulls up the shirt, exposing the flesh of Cas’s swollen abdomen. For the first time, Dean notices little veins running across the expanse of Cas’s stomach, like delicate blue spiderwebs. Rowena frowns and traces a few with her fingers before laying her palms flat to Cas’s stomach.

     His breath hitches. “What?” Dean demands. “Did she hurt you?”

     Cas looks at Rowena and shakes his head. “No, your hands are cold,” he assures her.

     Rowena glares at Dean. “A little more faith, Winchester?”

     _Sorry_ , Dean mouths with his hands up, and he forces himself to take a step back. The last thing he wants to do is piss off the witch so badly that she leaves. Rowena stares intently at her hands where they sit on Cas’s rounded belly. After a moment, she draws back and turns to blow out the candle.

     “I can no longer meet the terms of our agreement,” she informs them. “I require the Black Grimiore _before_ I begin my work.”

     “What?” Dean exclaims. “No way. You do the job, _then_ you get paid. That’s how it works.”

     “I can’t do the job without the proper tools, which only you can provide. My hands are tied,” she says.

     “So you’re saying you don’t know the right spells without the Grimoire?” Sam asks.

     “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replies. “I can’t do it without it.”

     “She’s lying,” Cas growls. “I know you have the proper spells. I’ve seen you use them.”

     Rowena shakes her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I assure you that I don’t.”

     “How do you know, Cas?” Dean asks, ignoring Rowena completely.

     “There’s not much that I remember from when I was a vessel for Lucifer,” Cas says. “I have very few memories from that time. But I do remember a lot of that first day. I know that I— _he_ killed her. He snapped her neck.”

     “So she must have a spell that can keep you alive, or at least bring you back if you die,” Sam says.

     “It’s true that I had a failsafe for my death when Lucifer tried to kill me. But that technique won’t work for Castiel.”

     “Why not?” Dean demands. “Why can’t you just use the same spell for Cas? He’ll be human by the time the baby is born, so it should work just fine on him.”

     “Oh, it’ll work just fine on _him_ , but that doesn’t really solve your whole problem, does it?”

     “What do you mean?” Cas asks. “That’s exactly our problem.”

     “Well,” she says, casually fluffing her hair as she speaks, “I’d guess by the fact that you’re still pregnant that that’s not the case.”

     “Damnit, Rowena,” Dean growls, “stop playing games, and whatever you’re trying to say, spit it out!”

     “Fine,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. “What I’m trying to say is that the spell will work on Castiel, and _only_ Castiel. I’m only assuming you’d like to save the _baby_ as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say what now


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo for some reason it turns out that I was backdating all my chapters. Just make sure you don't skip chapters if you're trying to catch up. Just for reference, I've been posting one chapter per week, so if you haven't read in a month, you're behind by like . . . four whole chapters. Sorry for the inconvenience!

    “Rowena, our baby is not dying,” Cas growls, wrapping his arms protectively around his middle. “I’m giving her all of my Grace. Every last bit of it.”

    “It’s not enough,” Rowena says softly, but her tone doesn’t make the words any easier to swallow. Rage and panic bubbles inside Dean’s veins, and before he can think twice, he slams the witch against the wall, holding her by the throat.

    “Oh yeah? How does it feel to have _your_ life dangling in front of you?” He squeezes tighter, and she squirms, letting out a strangled croak. “Do you think this is fun? Is this some kind of game to you?”

    “Dean,” Sam says sharply. Dean feels his nose curl into a snarl, but he releases his hold on Rowena. She falls back against the wall, panting.

    “Does it look like I’m laughing to you?” she chokes, drawing in desperate breaths of air. “Don’t shoot the messenger, as they say. I’m only trying to help.”

    “Then do more helping!” Dean shouts, but Cas speaks up before he can launch into a rant.

    “I don’t understand,” he says. “How can the baby be dying? I can feel her. She’s alive, and well.”

    “For now,” Rowena clarifies, “but she’s starving. She can’t go much longer without more energy. And it won’t be coming from you,” she says to Cas, shaking her head. “Your Grace is almost gone.”

    “Cas, is that true?” Dean asks.

    “Yes, I’m nearly human. But I don’t see why that would suddenly kill her.”

    “You must have noticed by now, that you’re too small,” Rowena explains. “That’s a sure sign that she’s not doing well.”

    “Too small? What do you mean?” Sam asks. “Cas looks normal. I mean, as normal as a man carrying a baby can be.”

    “Castiel?” Rowena asks. “Surely you realize you should be nearly to term by now?”

    “No, I _don’t_ realize,” Cas snaps, and Dean feels a surge of pride at his bitter tone. Cas’s eyes narrow as he says bitingly, “You may think it’s fun to be condescending to Dean and me, but this is our child’s _life_ , and I am terrified every moment of every day that I’m doing everything wrong. _Of course_ I don’t know whether I should be bigger, or smaller, or to term, or still an angel, or purple, or green, or better at _growing a fucking baby_. What Dean and I have created has been forbidden for millennia. Even if I’m not the first angel to become pregnant, it’s not as if there are instructions or even stories for me to use in preparation. Now you can either stop being degrading long enough to explain to us what you know, or you can get the hell out of our home and forget about the Grimiore. We’ve been patient enough.” By the time Cas is finished, he is trembling in anger. Dean climbs onto the bed and wraps his arms around Cas to calm him. Cas sighs in exhaustion and leans back against Dean, still shaking.

    Cas’s words hang heavy in the air for a moment before Rowena speaks. “I have never seen an angel pregnancy either,” she says. “Everything I know is from studying it as a hypothetical, not from experience. I thought maybe you would be familiar with some of the popular theories.”

    “I’m not. We have _nothing_ ,” Cas breathes, a frustrated edge still present in his tone. “We looked through every book this bunker has involving nephilim and angel lore. There is no mention of angels bearing children, not even in theory. If you think I haven’t already done everything I can, you’re wrong.”

    “Almost everything I know is word-of-mouth. It is possible that there are no texts on the subject,” Rowena says. “At least not readily available to non-magic folk.”

    “Can you explain to us what you know?” Sam asks. “We’ve been in the dark for so long. . . it would be good to know what we’re up against.”

    “Well, there are many different theories regarding an angel pregnancy,” Rowena tells them. “Each one has its slight differences, but the big ideas are consistent throughout all of them. It is almost universally agreed upon that an angel pregnancy would be about the same length as a human carrying a nephilim, possibly even shorter.”

    “And how long would that be?” Sam asks.

    “Somewhere around five and a half months.”

    Cas looks up at Dean in alarm. “So why is Cas so far behind?” he asks on the other man’s behalf.

    “His dwindling Grace is certainly part of it,” Rowena says. “If he was in a female vessel, he might still be on track, but as a man, his body wasn’t meant to carry a child, not without the assistance of an angel’s Grace.”

    Cas shakes his head. “I knew my male body would be incompatible with pregnancy once I became human, but I thought it was only killing _me_. I didn’t think it would hurt her.”

    “It’s not your fault, Cas,” Dean sighs, scrubbing his face. “You couldn’t have known.”

    “Of course, the child growing slowly is not a problem in itself, only the symptom of it,” Rowena explains. “With you as a fallen angel, the equation changes. The child is less of a human-angel hybrid than it is a human-human-angel hybrid, which would certainly take a bit longer to form.”

    “Then how did you know something was wrong?” Sam asks. He follows her as she approaches the bed.

    “Look here,” she instructs, pulling Cas’s shirt up once more. “These veins are her searching for Grace, but there’s not enough left. She is draining Castiel, looking for anything she can to sustain herself.” Dean looks at Cas’s belly uneasily. Deep purple veins are spread across the rounded surface in thin, squiggling lines. “That’s the reason he’s experiencing so much pain. She is taking more from him than his body can allow, and it’s fighting back against her. They’re competing for resources that simply aren’t enough.”

    “What can we do?” Cas asks. “Can you save her?”

    “And can you save _Cas_?” Dean asks, unwilling to let the former angel be an afterthought.

    “I can do both,” she says, “But not without the Grimiore.”

    “So what exactly do you need it for?” Sam asks.

    “There are two things that must be done in order for both Castiel and the child to stay alive. The first is physical changes to his organs so she has a proper place to grow. Both he _and_ the bairn will be _much_ happier without her tangled up in his intestines.” Dean winces at the thought, and silently agrees that it would be better to solve that problem _now_ than later. “That, I have the knowledge to do myself. The second thing that needs to be done is to supply both of them with a substitute for Grace. I’ve heard that the Grimiore has many spells that involve creating energy. With the right one, we can supplement the Grace with enough power for her to grow and Castiel to survive it.”

    “Okay,” Dean sighs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice. We’ll give you the Grimiore now, but you stay _here_ until the baby is born. Agreed?”

    “Agreed,” Rowena says, a bit too happily for Dean’s taste, but there is nothing to be done about it.

    “Okay,” Sam says. “We’ll show you the Grimiore and get you set up to start working. We should have everything you need. The Men of Letters kept this place stocked up pretty well, and I’ve tried to keep up with anything that was missing.” Sam leads the way out the door, Rowena close behind.

    Dean turns to Cas before he goes. “You okay?” he asks. “I know it’s a lot, buddy.”

    “Honestly? No,” the former angel says dejectedly. Dean sits back down on the edge of the bed, facing Cas. “I’ve been killing her this whole time, and I didn’t even know it. And I can’t stop myself from doing it, no matter how hard I try.” His eyelids flutter closed, and he bites his lip.

    “Pain?” Dean asks, and Cas nods. Dean wraps an arm around Cas’s back, and rubs in soothing circles as Cas lets out a low moan. “It’ll be better soon.”

    “Will it?” Cas grunts through the pain. “I can’t give her what she needs, Dean. What I’m feeling right now is her _starving_ , looking for something I cannot provide for her. And what does my body do? It fights her. It starves her intentionally. I deserve every bit of this pain.”

    “You can’t put that on yourself, man. It’s part of being human,” Dean reassures him. “Us normal guys? Mortals?” he says, and Cas gives the smallest of smiles before his face contorts once more, and he hunches over, breathing deeply. “Sometimes our bodies do things that we don’t tell it to do.”

    “I used to have total control,” Cas says sadly, straightening up. “If I was still an angel, I would give her all of my Grace. Every last drop.”

    “Then I’m glad you’re not,” Dean says, and Cas hunches over again, a strangled cry coming from his throat. Dean runs a comforting hand through his hair. “I need you here. Look, we have Rowena now. _Both_ of you are going to live.”

    Cas stills, pressing a hand to the swell of his belly. “She’s kicking right now,” he says, voice weary and lids heavy. “Do you think she hates me for all of this?” he says. Hesitantly, he brings his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

    “No,” Dean says softly, taking Cas’s free hand in his own. “No way. She knows you’re doing your best. And that kid is gonna come out loving you so hard you won’t know what hit you.”

     Cas smiles, but his lip still trembles the slightest bit. “Are you sure?”

     “Dude, I freaking promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day I guess lol. You get a chapter without a cliffhanger?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter. The finale was... draining. I think we can all agree on that.

     “You find anything yet?”

     Rowena barely glances over her shoulder at Dean as she flips through the Black Grimoire. He knows it’s about the fifth time he’s asked in a manner of minutes, but he can’t shut himself up when Cas is groaning in pain on the bed in the other room.

     “For goodness sakes, Winchester, the answer is still no.”

     “But you said—”

     “What I _said_ was that based on a quick glance, one of these spells should do the trick. It will take time to read through them, consider the options, and choose the best one.”

     “Listen,” Dean says angrily, taking a step forward. “Cas is in pain.”

     “Yes, but he’s not dying yet. Besides, he’s doing much better now that I’ve untangled the bairn from his internal organs. At this point, it makes more sense to choose the best fitting spell than to rush through this process. You have to understand that grace is a tricky thing to replicate, and some of these energy spells can be finicky. You _do_ want him to live, don’t you?”

     Dean rolls his eyes, frustrated that things aren’t moving along more quickly, but he knows Rowena is right.

     “Obviously, yes.”

     “Then get out of my hair and let me do the job you’re paying me to do.”

     Dean scowls, but he does as he’s told. He trudges out of the library and into the War Room where Sam is staring blankly at the wall and turning his phone over in his hands.

     “Hey,” Dean says, catching his attention.

     Sam jolts slightly and looks up. “Oh, hey. How’s it going in there? Rowena find anything yet?”

     Dean shrugs, pulling up a chair. “It’s slow. She says one of them will work but she has to read more carefully to figure out which one is best.”

     Sam nods, turning his phone over in his hands once more with a frown. “Hopefully she’ll find something soon.”

     Dean’s brow creases. There’s something strange about Sam’s mood. Though a drastic change from the past week or so, Dean seems to be the one in better spirits. “So, you doing okay?” he asks, hoping to figure out whatever is bothering his brother.

     Sam lets out a small huff of laughter. “I feel like I should be asking you that.” He pauses. “Are you?”

     “Weirdly enough, yes. And I’m not even lying.” Sam looks surprised. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m impatient for us to find the right spell and get it done. I’m not great at sitting on my ass and waiting. But I know Cas is gonna be okay for now, and I know he’s tougher than I give him credit for. So . . . what about you?”

     “What do you mean?”

     “You seem down about something. Spill.”

     Sam laughs again. “What, are we actually doing the whole sharing-and-caring thing now?” Dean gives him a pointed look. “Fine. I guess I’m just thinking about the whole thing with Mom this morning. When we decided to call Rowena.”

     “What about it?”

     “I dunno. I guess I expected her to be . . . more understanding? I mean, we’re doing this to save Cas’s life, and the life of your kid. And even with that, she was so against it.” Sam shakes his head. “I would’ve thought it was a no-brainer, honestly.”

     “Yeah, well, Mom grew up in a different culture. We both know how the Campbell family hunted. It’s a different set of rules than we’re used to.”

     “I guess,” Sam says, head ducking down. “It just got me thinking, though. What would she think if she knew our whole story? What would she think . . . about me?” He raises his eyes to Dean’s.

     “What? You mean the demon blood stuff?”

     “Yeah. And you know, the psychic abilities and all that. It’s just a lot.”

     “It is,” Dean says slowly, still feeling like he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. “But that’s all in the past now, Sam. She doesn’t have to know if you don’t want her to. And you know you can’t blame yourself for what Azazel did.”

     Sam’s brow twitches. “Umm . . . well there’s more to it than that.”

     Something clicks in Dean’s mind. “This isn’t just about Mom is it?”

     Sam takes a deep breath. “I haven’t had my powers for years. And believe me, I don’t want them back. I know I went down a dark path. But . . . I never lost that connection I had to magic, you know? And—and with doing so much research and going through the Bunker library and everything, it just sorta piqued my interest again. I just feel like . . . It’s calling to me or something. I’ve been doing so much reading, and I’m just itching for that hands-on experience. Especially knowing that there’s . . . some kind of natural ability in me.”

     Dean stares intently at Sam, reading the uncomfortable emotions in his eyes. “You wanna be a witch,” he says. It’s not a question.

     Sam shrinks down. “Yeah, I guess.”

     “Huh.” Dean is quiet for a moment, processing the new information running through his head. Sam looks ready to bolt from the table. “Then you should.”

     “I—wait, what?”

     “Be a witch. Heck, go in there and start learning right now. We have one of the most powerful witches in the country under our roof, so go. Tell her to teach you, and she’s not getting that damn book if she doesn’t.”

     “I don’t get it,” Sam says between nervous laughter. “You’re okay with this?”

     “You know what, Sam? A few years ago I wouldn’t be. But now? We’ve seen it with our own two eyes, man. Good magic exists. Like those witch twins at the Asa Fox funeral?” Dean rubs a hand through his hair. “I guess what I’m trying to say is magic can be really bad in the wrong hands, but we know it’s more than that now. And there’s no one I would trust with that kind of power more than you.”

     Sam can’t meet his eyes, but he’s definitely smiling. “Wow. Thanks, Dean. It means a lot. Really.” He lets out a small sigh of relief. “I didn’t think you’d be on board with that.”

     Dean smirks. “About time we added some new tools to our arsenal. And if you think about it, your timing couldn’t be better. I mean, you really think I trust _Rowena_ with Cas? I’m just doing this ‘cause I have to. But I’ll feel a lot better with you looking after him, and making sure she doesn’t screw us over.”

     Sam nods slowly. “I can keep her in line. It’s a good plan. If she agrees to teach me.”

     Dean snorts. “You think we’re gonna give her a choice? C’mon.” He stands up, and Sam follows. “Let’s go.” Together, they walk back into the library.

     Rowena rolls her eyes the second they approach. “ _No,_ I’ve _not_ found the right spell yet. Don’t even ask.”

    “Not what we’re here for.” Dean glances at Sam, but his brother doesn’t speak up for himself. “Sam wants to be a witch. You’re gonna teach him.”

     “Sam?” she laughs. “ _Our_ Sam Winchester.” She shakes her head. “You must be joking.”

     “No,” Sam says softly. He clears his throat. “He’s, uh, not lying. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I want to learn. For real.”

     Rowena gives him a scrutinizing look, raking her eyes down his body and searching his eyes. “You’re serious.”

     “Yeah,” he coughs. “I really am.”

     A broad grin spreads across her face. “ _Well_ , then. Hop on up and we’ll start right away?”

     “What, really?” Dean asks, eyebrows raising. “Just like that?”

     “Problem?” Rowena says. “This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”

     “Yeah,” Sam answers for him. “I guess we’re just surprised that you’re so willing. We thought we were gonna have to put up more of a fight.”

     She laughs. “Nonsense. There are very few things I’ll do for free, but taking a student happens to be one of them. Magic is a dying art. The world needs more witches.”

     Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know about that, but Sam’ll make a good one. You just watch. Kid’s got some brains.”

     “Oh, I’m sure,” Rowena responds, but her nose is already buried back in the book. “Now, Sam, look at this one. What do you think?”

     Dean begins to walk out as Sam reads over the spell. “Well, the incantation is a good match, and the inclusion of cream touched by a fairy could be a powerful combination. But vampire blood? There’s too much risk of negative side affects, and not enough to counterbalance it.”

     “ _Very_ good,” she purrs. “You’re already very knowledgeable, though you did miss one thing. Look at the inclusion of powder of Algaroth.”

     “Stirred into the blood? That would be a disaster.”

     “Yes, this is _not_ a restorative spell of any kind. Let’s move on . . .”

 

     Dean should have known that Rowena would be more difficult than that.

     Later, after her and Sam have read the Grimoire cover to cover and have narrowed their possibilities down to four or five spells, she hovers over Dean in the War Room, eyeing him oddly.

     “What?” he snaps, more on edge after witnessing Cas experience a particularly horrible wave of pain a few minutes ago.

     “Nothing,” she says casually. “Just thinking about our little agreement.”

     Dean shakes his head, sighing, as he closes his book. “What about it?” he grunts. “Backing out or something?”

     “It did cross my mind,” she admits as she sits across from him. Her eyes narrow. “Why are you trusting me?”

     “We’re not. Look, Cas needs to get fixed, and you’re the only one who can do it. I don’t trust you at all, and that’s why you’re not getting paid until the kid is born and he’s okay.”

     “I suppose,” she says. “But honestly, what’s stopping me from just grabbing the Grimoire and going?” She laughs. “It’s not a very good plan on your part.”

     “Fine,” Dean snaps. “If that’s what you really want, grab the book and go. But let me tell you something: that’s _not_ how you learn to live with yourself. That’s _not_ what’s gonna make you happy.”

     Rowena opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. After a moment, she tries again. “You remember,” she says much softly, in wonder. “You remember what happened under the effects of the memory spell. How?”

     “I don’t know,” Dean says. There’s still bite to his voice, but Rowena’s shock has him simmering down. “I don’t remember all of it, just bits and pieces.” Blurry images fill his mind.

     “And our conversation?”

     “One of the bigger ones,” he admits. “Look, I don’t expect you to give a shit about Cas, or me, or even Sam, but what do you have to gain by walking out on us? What you were talking about, with never being satisfied? This isn’t the way to get there. You know, sometimes doing the right thing actually feels good. Believe it or not.”

     Rowena has a far away look in her eyes as he speaks, lips turning in a thoughtful frown, but the moment he finishes, her face is composed once more. “If you really must know, I wasn’t _planning_ on running away with the Grimoire; I was just pointing out a flaw in your logic.”

     “Yeah? Well, don’t,” Dean says, rubbing his face. “’Cause you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

     “No need for worry,” she says, “especially now that I’m teaching your brother. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.” She smirks. “I do admit I thought about snatching the Grimoire and running away. Maybe even your hybrid child.” Dean glares sharply at her, but she ignores him. “Then I realized that would be foolish. I hated raising a baby the first time, so why would I do it again? The hassle isn’t worth the gain. Not to mention that I’d have a hoard of angry Winchesters on my trail.” She cracks the faintest smile at her last sentence.

     “You’d be dead within minutes,” he says gruffly, but his shoulders relax, recognizing Rowena’s sick sense of humor for what it is.

     She straightens up from the table. “It will take time to get the right spell. Another day or two at least. I know we’ve had some disagreements in the past—”

     “Understatement of the year.”

     “—But I promise you that I will take care of your angel as best as I can. Lord knows I could have used a witch to help me.”

     Dean nods slowly, trying to comprehend all the layers of what Rowena is saying. “He appreciates it. And I do, too. Cas is . . . well, he’s everything, okay?”

     Rowena scoffs. “I can’t say that I understand that feeling. But I know better than to cross the Winchesters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad timing for a chapter with no Cas, I know, but there were important things to establish without him this week! I promise he'll be back in the next chapter :)


	12. Chapter 12

     “Breathe through it, Cas. Just breathe through it.”

     It’s been a rough week for the former angel.

     Rowena had cast a spell almost immediately to form a temporary womb for the baby. The positive effect was instantaneous; for three whole days, Cas had been nearly back to his former self. The pain was relatively low and he had a lot more energy. Dean was able to watch him without worry.

     Things had taken a turn for the worse soon after, however. By the fourth day, the angry purple veins had returned, and Cas was dealing with waves of pain once more.

     “I can’t fix anything until Sam and I find a proper spell to supplement his grace,” Rowena had said apologetically. “She’s draining him. There’s nothing I can do about it other than keep searching.”

     “What’s taking so long?” Dean had demanded.

     At that point, Sam had stepped in. “We’ve narrowed it down to a few good spells, but the best result will probably be from some kind of combination of spells rather than one right out of the book. If we can customize it, for the lack of a better word, to Cas’s specific situation, it’ll be a lot safer than just copying it out of the book.”

     So they wait. By the end of the week, the purple veins have spread even more from Cas’s stomach and onto his chest, across his hips, and around his back and sides. Nobody is willing to admit it aloud, but Dean knows. This is the final stretch. Without further intervention, and soon, Cas is going to die.

     “Just breathe.” The former angel hunches forward over his distended abdomen, shoulders shaking in pain. “Come on, you can do it.” Cas is gripping Dean’s hand, their sweaty palms sliding together. Cas’s skin is drenched, sweat soaking through his thin cotton t-shirt and plastering his hair to his head.

     He lets out a sound that is half-growl and half-cry. “I can’t,” he grits through his teeth, rocking back and forth. “Dean. It hurts.”

     “I know,” Dean says, heart aching for Cas as he smooths back his damp brown curls. “Come on, buddy. Just breathe through it. I know you can do it.”

     The current wave of pain passes, and Cas falls back against the pillows, trembling. He’s very pale with dark heavy circles under his eyes. Still, he manages to crack a smile. “I hope the birth isn’t any worse than this. If I even make it that long.”

     “Don’t even say that. You _will_ make it.”

     “Dean, I’m seeing two of you. That’s not a very reassuring sign,” Cas deadpans.

     The corner of Dean’s mouth twitches. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got the very best looking out for you. Gonna find a cure soon.”

     “Rowena?” Cas grunts, hunching over once more.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m talking about Sam.”

     Cas manages a smile, but it doesn’t last long. With a cry, he throws himself back against the pillows, hand gripping Dean’s firmly.

     “Breathe, Cas,” he says, but apparently the pain is too much. Cas gasps, lungs barely filling with the shallowest of breaths. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you.”

     Cas’s scrunched face drops after a moment, and his hand goes limp. “Sam!” Dean calls. He squeezes Cas’s fingers. “Come on, Cas, you gotta hang in there.” Although Cas has passed out, he is at least breathing normally again. Dean sighs and leans back in his chair, scrubbing his face with his free hand.

     Sam steps into the room, Rowena close behind. He balances the Grimoire, opened and bookmarked in several places, in one of his large hands. “Hey,” he says. He looks at Cas. “Geez, again?”

     “Yeah,” Dean confirms as he stands. “This is like the fourth time today. You guys got anything yet? ‘Cause I don’t think he has much longer and we have to do _something_.”

     Cas begins to stir right as Sam says, “Actually, yeah.”

     Dean goes to Cas’s side and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, heart jumping at the prospect of finally ending the unbearable pain that Cas is going through. “Wait, really?” He turns to Cas and says more softly, “You okay?”

     Cas scrunches his eyes and mumbles something that vaguely sounds like a “yes.” He breathes in deeply. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he slurs.

   “Sam says he and Rowena have something,” Dean says. “They’re gonna fix you up.”

     “Really?” Cas asks, more alert. He blinks a few times. “What did you find?”

     “Well, Cas, turns out it’s a really good thing we got blood and feathers from you when you were still an angel,” Sam says. “I mean, either of those things from _any_ angel would be helpful, but the fact it’s from you is going to make the spell a lot stronger.”

     “Those ingredients still have remnants of your grace in them,” Rowena explains. “It’ll make our energy spell a much better match for the child.”

     “Meaning that she’ll stop feeding on Cas,” Dean says, hoping for a clarification.

     “That’s the plan,” Rowena says.

     “Right,” says Sam. “So anyways, we didn’t really like the incantation for the corresponding spell. It was actually _too_ restorative considering that Cas really doesn’t have much grace left. We pretty much need to make something out of nothing. So, we wrote our own.”

     “Your brother is very skilled with words. I can tell that incantations are going to be his specialty,” Rowena cuts in. Sam is definitely blushing, and Dean is totally going to torment him over it when this is all over. “He practically wrote it himself with only a few essential changes by yours truly. But his Latin is impeccable.”  
     Dean snorts. “Sure is.” Sam glowers. “Anyways, please tell me we don’t have to wait until the next full moon or any of that crap. Because, uh . . . ” He doesn’t know how to say that Cas is barely hanging on with him sitting right there.

     “I don’t have much longer,” Cas says bluntly, and Dean shrugs apologetically. “It’s true. I hope you can do the spell soon because I don’t think I can stand to see your brother tear himself apart over it any longer.” Cas gives Dean a glance filled with attitude. A lump forms in his throat as he silently acknowledges the fact that he _is_ indeed falling apart. Cas’s gaze softens, and he grasps Dean’s hand.

     “Thankfully, yes,” Sam says. “It doesn’t matter when we do the spell, so the sooner the better. We’re pretty much all set up downstairs. We just need to bring Cas down and we should be good to go.”

 

     Bringing Cas down is, of course, easier said than done. The Bunker stairs are treacherous, and Cas needs the support of the brothers on either side. Together, they practically have to lift him down the stairs. His arms are wrapped desperately around each of their necks for support and he pants heavily as they make their descent.

     He collapses into a chair as Rowena and Sam finish their preparations for the spell. Dean is troubled to find that the veins have crawled their way up his chest and have started appearing on his neck.

     “Cas, there’s one last thing we wanted to check with you before we start,” Sam says, skimming the page on which he and Rowena have written their new spell. “Since there isn’t a name for exactly _what_ your daughter is, especially not in Latin, we’re using the term ‘nephilim’ as a substitute. I know that isn’t the scientific term, since there isn’t one, but it seems risky to create a new name for use in a spell that involves so many ancient techniques. What do you think?”

     Cas shakes his head. “I don’t think it’ll work. Especially since she’s more human than angel. And the intent isn’t correct.”

     “Can’t you just say ‘baby?’ Or ‘child?’” Dean asks.

     Sam looks at Rowena. “What do you think? I mean, we should have enough technical terms to balance it out, but is it enough specificity? Especially for such an important component of the incantation.”

     Rowena worries her lip between her teeth, considering it. “I think it will be fine. Castiel is right about the intent. ‘Baby’ is much more suited for that.”

     Sam nods, crossing out the words in question and scribbling replacements. “Okay. That should do it then.” He claps Cas on the shoulder. “You ready?”

     “Yes,” Cas responds, resolve strong in his voice. “And Sam, thank you.”

     Sam smiles and squeezes his shoulder. “It’s no problem, man. You’re family.” Cas smiles back. “Huh.”

     “What?” Dean asks.

     Sam blinks. “It’s just . . . I can feel her. Kinda like how Mom said.” He frowns, drawing away his hand. “Her energy is weak, though. We better get to it.”

     Dean stands behind Cas’s chair as Sam and Rowena finish setting up. He rests his hands on Cas’s chest, feeling his warmth and his steady heartbeat.

     “Hey,” Sam says to Rowena, pointing at a certain part of the spell. “Is this right?”

     She glances over. “Yes. Why?”

     Sam grimaces. “Seems weird to put the blood in the first half of the spell. Shouldn’t we switch it with the feathers?”

     “No. The feathers are more volatile than the blood. They have much more grace clinging to them.”

     “Yeah, but that’s part of the point. More power. And the blood will be better for the binding half of the ritual. That’s something that Cas and the baby share.”

     Rowena pauses, herbs pinched firmly between her fingers. She raises her brow. “For any other person I would say no, but I can see it working for him. We’ll switch them.”

     “Okay, good.” Sam straightens up, finishing his preparations. “Alright, Cas, I know it’s gonna be tough, but you have to stand for this. Dean can support you, though, if you have trouble.”

     Dean helps Cas to his feet. The former angel sways, but Dean stands behind him, allowing Cas to lean back and give Dean the brunt of his weight.

     Sam clears his throat. “Okay, ready?” he asks, looking to Rowena.

     “Everything is measured out. You can begin.”

     Sam takes a deep breath.

     “ _Cuius gratia omnia._

_Novum creare energia._

_Potestas eius, et gloria eius restituet_

_Sed praesertim ad alendam vitam concedere cogimur._

_Permiserunt ut defendat animam eius et nutritor_

_Sana eam patitur, et renovare_.”

     As Sam speaks, Rowena drops different ingredients into the bowl. By the end of the incantation, it is glowing, and clearly radiating some kind of energy. Even Dean can feel it. “Whoa,” he says. “So, is that it?”

     “No,” Rowena says. “That was only the first half. Though it appears to have been a success.” She and Sam exchange smiles. “We’ve created the energy, but the harder part is yet to come: getting the child to accept it.” She steps forward with the bowl and sets it on the table. “Take off your shirt,” she orders. Cas pulls it off and shucks it to the side, exposing his very round belly and the dark squiggling lines that mar his smooth skin.

     Rowena starts by drawing symbols on his face with the glowing mixture. Cas would have staggered backwards, if not for Dean standing at his back. He holds Cas steady and tries not to worry over the way that he takes all of Cas’s weight.

     As Rowena traces the last symbol on Cas’s cheek and starts to draw on the swell of his abdomen, Sam begins to read again:

     “ _Vinculum hoc energia esse hospiti videas._

_Reple lumine corpus._

_Expande potestatem per venas sanguine extinguitur._

_Praesidio filia ejus._

_Auxilium ad hoc infantem crescere,_

_Et hanc familiam servare vivere._ ”

     At the last two phrases, Rowena moves upwards and paints one last symbol over Cas’s heart. As Sam finishes, there is a flash of light, and Cas collapses backwards into Dean’s arms.

     “Cas?” he exclaims. He lays Cas on the ground as gently as he can while still being urgent. The veins are no longer visible on the surface of Cas’s skin, but he is totally unresponsive. “Cas.” Sam and Rowena rush to his side. He shakes him by the shoulders, waiting for some kind of consciousness, but he doesn’t stir. “What happened?” Dean demands.

     “I don’t know,” Sam stammers. “We did everything right, as far as I know. He should be fine.”

     “Well, he’s not! Cas? Come on, buddy, don’t do this.” He looks back up at Sam. “And the flash of light?”

     “Expected,” Rowena assures. “Though I don’t know why it knocked him out.”

     Dean puts a cautious ear to Cas’s mouth and waits on bated breath. “Oh God,” he says, somehow pulling himself up as bile rises in his throat. “It didn’t.”

     “What do you mean?”

     Dean’s hands tighten around Cas’s shoulders, grasping for anything to ground him. He turns to Rowena. “I mean you didn’t knock him out. He’s not _breathing_.” Painful tears spring to his eyes. “You killed him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he ain't dead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering about the spell used in the last chapter, here is the original English:  
>  Take this grace and make it whole.  
>  Spin it into energy new.  
>  Restore its power and its glory,  
>  But most importantly, allow it to support a life once more,  
>  Keep and nurture a soul,  
>  Heal and renew.
> 
> Bond this energy to the host.  
>  Fill his body with light.  
>  Spread power through his veins.  
>  Protect his child.  
>  Help this baby to grow, and keep this family alive.
> 
> I'm sure that the Latin is a very loose translation because I don't speak Latin at all, but oh well.
> 
> Anyways, here's the new chapter. Hope you enjoy!

     “He’s dead?” Rowena asks, taking a step forward. “No, the spell doesn’t work like that. It should have no negative effect if it fails. It’s impossible.”

     “Well, he’s not breathing so it seems pretty damn possible,” Dean snaps. Reality sinks in, gripping in his chest. “Oh God, Cas.” Tears begin to prickle in his eyes as he stares at Cas’s unmoving face. He presses a shaking hand to his still-warm skin.

     “Dean,” Sam says, stepping forwards, “I – I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

     “Don’t, Sam. Just don’t.” Part of Dean wants to scream and cry, taking all of his emotion out on Sam and Rowena, but he knows they don’t deserve it, especially not Sam, who is also hurting right now. “I just – It’s not your fault, but please. Don’t.” Tears begin to spill out of his eyes, and his throat aches with fresh grief.

     “Yeah,” Sam says softly. “Okay.”

     Rowena won’t give it up, though. “No. Restorative spells cannot kill. The spell either takes effect or it doesn’t. It can’t _kill_ someone if it fails. There must be—”

     “Rowena!” Dean yells, but it comes out as a choked sob. “Just stop,” he cries, turning towards her. “It’s over! He—” His fingers curl in pain as they brush over Cas’s belly. “What the fuck?”

     “What is it?” Sam asks, kneeling at Dean’s side.

   Dean looks up at him uncertainly. “Feel his stomach. It’s hot.”

     Sam cautiously places a large hand on Cas’s belly. “Ow,” he says, quickly drawing back. “What is that?”

     Rowena kneels on the other side of Cas’s body and hovers her hand over him. “Like I said before, it’s not possible for him to be killed by this kind of spell. He’s not dead.”

     “But why is—?” Sam is cut off as Cas takes in a violent breath of air.

     “Cas?” Dean exclaims, cupping the other man’s face as he coughs. He wipes the drying tears from his face. “You’re alive?”

     Cas blinks, looking very disoriented. “Dean? What happened? Why am I on the floor?”

     “Shit, Cas. You weren’t breathing. You just went limp and—” Dean swallows. “I thought you were dead.” He takes a cautious pause. “How are you feeling?”

     Cas blinks. “Not dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” After a moment, the corner of his mouth twitches up in the smallest of smirks.

     Dean can’t help himself. He chuckles a few times before breaking into insane laughter. Tears spill out of the corner of his eyes again, and he holds Cas tightly as his shoulders heave in uncontrollable laughter.

     “Dean. Are you okay?” Cas asks.

     “Yeah. Yeah,” Dean chokes between laughs. “You’re just – I don’t know what I would do without you, Cas. I thought you were dead, and the first thing you do is lay down a heavy dose of sarcasm on me.” He breaks out into laughter once more.

     “I’m . . . sorry?”

     “Don’t be,” Dean gasps, wiping away tears for the second time. “I just . . . God, I love you,” he says breathlessly, pulling Cas closer.

     “I love you too,” Cas mumbles, his voice muffled against Dean’s neck.

     Dean pulls back and plants a firm kiss on Cas’s lips. “You’re really okay?”

     “I feel good. I’m certainly much stronger, and the pain is gone,” he assures Dean.

     “It won’t last forever,” Rowena warns. “You’re still human, so you will be uncomfortable as the pregnancy progresses. But you certainly won’t die or find yourself in that much pain again.”

     “Of course,” Cas says. “I still don’t understand what happened, though. Why did I stop breathing?”

     Rowena squints. “I’m not sure how to explain it to those who haven’t studied magic. I doubt even former angels are familiar with such a thing. Energy Transferal Protective Resistance is a complicated subject.”

     “Oh!” Sam says, and Dean swears he can see a literal light bulb appear above his head. “That makes sense.”

     “What is that? Energy Transfer whatever?” Dean asks. “Is Cas okay or not?”

     “Yeah, he should be totally fine. I’m trying to think of how to explain it . . . Okay, you know how people unplug their electronics during a storm?”

     Dean makes a face. “People actually do that?”

     Sam purses his lips before saying, “People who actually care about their belongings do.” Dean shrugs. “Anyways, you do that to avoid ruining your stuff in case there’s a power surge.”

     “So . . . you’re saying what? Cas ‘unplugged’ for a minute?”

     “Yeah. I mean, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but that’s the general idea. Cas’s body shut down temporarily to protect it from the influx of energy. Same with the baby, but she likely took the energy first, and the leftover went to Cas. That’s why his stomach was hot to the touch.”

     “She was recharging?”

     “Yeah. In a way.”

     “Huh.” Dean looks back at Cas. “Okay, well let’s get you up.” Both he and Sam extend a hand and help Cas to his feet. He pulls Cas close to him once more, comforted by his warmth.

     After they separate, Cas pulls Sam in for a hug. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for saving us.”

     “Cas, of course. You’re my family,” Sam says. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” They part with smiles.

     Cas’s face turns slightly red as he looks down at his bare chest and exposed belly. “I should put my shirt back on.”

     Sam laughs, and picks up the discarded garment, tossing it to Cas.

     “So,” Dean says as Cas pulls the tee over his head, “is Cas good now or not?”

     “Not, I’m afraid,” Rowena responds. “The spell worked, but the energy won’t last forever. Sam and I will have to replenish it every week to keep the child properly fed.”

     “Okay,” Dean says, processing her words. “That’s not a perfect situation, but at least he’s okay for now. So we have to go through this whole ordeal every week, huh?”

     “Heavens, no,” Rowena says. “The energy is bonded to Castiel and the child now, so there’s no need to repeat the whole spell. It’s just a matter of maintaining it.” She picks up the bowl used for the spell. It now contains just a bright, silvery liquid that, in Dean’s opinion, looks a lot like angel grace. She pours the substance into a small wooden box, which she gently latches shut before placing into his hands. “You’ll want to keep this in a safe place.”

     “Okay,” Dean says, heart beating nervously at the prospect of Cas’s life literally in his hands. He barely notices as Rowena grabs her bag from the table.

     “I should be back within a few hours,” she says, stepping towards the door. “I won’t be long.”

     “Hold on!” Dean says as he finally processes what is happening, and Sam moves to stop her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

     “Out to get more ingredients, of course,” she says innocently. Sam doesn’t budge. “Look, we’re running low on caraway and yarrow root,” she exclaims. “You do _not_ want to run out of ingredients when maintaining a restorative spell. Any respectable witch keeps a heavy surplus of what she needs.”

     “Sam?” Dean asks.

     “It’s true,” Sam says. “We are running low on a few things, and it’s best to keep a fully stocked shelf.”

     Dean sighs. “Fine. But he goes with you.”

     Rowena scoffs. “That won’t work at all. I also need to get some rarer items, including certain charms and such. We’re going to need quite a few things for the birth, not to mention precautions for healing spells in case something goes wrong before then, and the markets I go to will _certainly_ not allow me to be accompanied by someone they don’t know, witch or not.”

   “No,” Dean says. “Uh-uh. No way.”

     “Dean,” Cas cuts in, his blue eyes imploring. “Let her go.”

     “What? Cas, you crazy?”

     Cas narrows his eyes. “She already has done so much to heal me. I trust her to come back.”

     Dean huffs and scrubs his face, scrunching his eyes as his heart and brain fight an inner battle with each other. As much as he wants to trust Rowena, it doesn’t seem like the smartest of choices.

     “Look, the Grimoire stays here,” Rowena assures him. “And you know I would not leave without collecting my payment.”

     “Fine,” Dean growls. “But if you’re playing us, I swear I will hunt you down.”

     “Of course,” Rowena says, gathering her things as casually as if she had just been told the weather. “I would expect no less.”

 

     After Rowena leaves, Dean makes sure to tuck the box of fake grace into the bottom of his nightstand drawer, carefully hidden under a layer of clothing and a few family photos. He keeps Cas close beside him, incredibly thankful that the other man is now smiling and laughing, and not spending every moment in excruciating pain.

     They congregate with Sam in the War Room soon after and try to make some order on the cluttered tables. Almost every surface is covered in a jumbled mess of books, pads of paper, and loose sheets used for notes that they never got around to cleaning up in their rushed search for a cure for Cas. Dean and Sam place books into piles to be reshelved while Cas stays seated, at Dean’s insistence, organizing their notes to be stored for later reference.

     “You know, now that everything is under control with Cas, we should probably start thinking of what to do about Kelly Kline,” Sam says.

     “What do you mean?” Dean asks. “The angels are taking care of that. Cas said so himself.”

     “That’s true,” Cas responds, “but I think I would have heard from Kelvin had Kelly and Dagon been located.”

     “Kelvin. The angel?” Dean asks.

     “Yes, he’s the one who took me to see Joshua. When I agreed to let the other angels handle it, I asked that I be kept up to date on the situation, of course. I assume that if any progress had been made by now, I would have heard from one of them.”

     “So what’s the play here, anyways?” Sam asks. “I mean, the angels want to rescue Kelly from Dagon, but what happens after that? What happens to the baby?”

     “I’m not sure,” Cas answers. “It wasn’t discussed in our meeting. I guess that he would be cared for in Heaven.”

     “What?” Dean exclaims. He blinks. “That sounds like a bad idea. This is a kid we’re talking about. Do angels even know how to raise a baby?” Cas looks as if he’s been slapped in the face. “No, Cas, that’s not a dig on you. Trust me. You’ve had the whole human thing going on for years now.” Thankfully, Cas seems appeased by Dean’s correction. “But on top of all that, can he even enter Heaven? You said yourself that the portal would kill humans, and that kid is half human.”

     “I’m not really sure,” Cas admits. “I would hope that the angels in charge of this mission would have thought about—”

     Cas stops at the sound of the Bunker door unlocking.

     Sam frowns. “Is Rowena back already?”

     Dean is about to respond, “must be,” but something doesn’t sit right with him. “No . . .” he says, gears turning in his mind. “She said it would take hours.” His next thought is that maybe Mom has come home, but he or Sam would have gotten a text. His blood runs cold. “Cas,” he says. “Go to our room and stay there. Don’t come out.”

     “Dean?” Cas asks. “What are you—?”

     It’s too late. The door swings open.

     It’s Mick Davies, part of the British Men of Letters, the organization that wants to _kill_ all supernatural creatures.

     And Cas is standing right there, out in the open, very visibly pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh this can't be good.


	14. Chapter 14

     For all the years Dean has spent reacting quickly to dangerous situations, his mind fails him for a moment. It takes a good second to register that Mick has even walked through the door.

     As soon as his brain catches up, he springs to action and evaluates their predicament. Mick has just entered and is still preoccupied by closing the Bunker door. They will only have a few seconds to protect Cas, and fast. He quickly notes that neither he or Sam is armed, and Cas, in his t-shirt and stretchy jeans, is certainly not packing either. They need to get Cas’s belly out of Mick’s sightline, and Dean’s first thought is to seat him at the table, but Cas is a few good feet away, and Mick’s eye will surely be drawn by the sudden movement. Other items of furniture in the room are also too far away. No, Dean realizes, the closest object to block Cas from view, or at least his figure, is Dean himself. He takes two quick strides to stand in front of Cas just as Mick turns to face them. He reaches a hand back to brush against Cas’s arm, keeping him in place.

     “Sam, Dean, good to see you,” Mick says, coming down the stairs. “Ah, Castiel as well,” he says. Cas shifts ever so slightly behind him. Dean can feel Cas’s round tummy pressed into his back, but his face hovers above Dean’s shoulder.

     “Mick, what are you doing here?” Sam asks, with a nervous glance towards Dean. Great. Sam doesn’t have a plan either, and this isn’t going to work for more than a minute tops. Sooner or later, Mick is going to notice that Cas is hiding behind Dean, and he’s going to want to know why. But Dean, for the life of him, can’t think of a solution. For a wild moment, he considers telling Cas to run, but for all of Cas’s renewed energy, the baby is still slowing him down. Sam and Dean could maybe buy Cas a few seconds, but Mick is surely armed, and he would catch up to Cas soon enough.

     “Just checking in, seeing how our American hunters are doing,” Mick says as he descends the last few steps. He walks towards Sam and extends his hand. “You three have been quiet lately.”

     Sam extends his own hand to shake Mick’s. “Uh, yeah. Well, you know, with everything going on, we thought it would be a good idea to take a step back. Get things organized. Do some research.”

     “Ah, yes,” Mick comments, looking at the books spread across their table. “ _The Rise and Fall of the Nephilim._ Interesting choice. _The Book of Enoch_ , yes, that’s essential reading for this particular situation.”

     As Mick is preoccupied, Dean nudges Cas and he begins to inch towards the door. Mick and Sam continue their conversation.

     “Yeah, we’ve found some interesting stuff that might be useful. In the Kelly Kline situation, I mean.” Mick starts to move away, and Sam reaches out his arm to stop him. “Actually, uh, we’ve found a few things that I’ve been meaning to contact you about. Here, come take a look at these notes.”

     “Of course, in a moment. Just let me properly greet your brother first.”

     “Wait, Mick—!” Sam exclaims futilely.

     Dean takes a step towards Cas, but it’s too late. Mick’s eyes widen in shock. In a split second, his gun is drawn and pointed straight at Cas.

     “Mick, no!” Dean jumps in front of Cas, blocking him as best as he can. “Don’t do this.”

     Mick still wears an expression of disbelief. “He’s pregnant,” he says plainly.

     “Yes. Yes he is, but listen to me. You gotta hear us out, man. I swear to you, we’re doing the right thing.”

     “No. You may think you are, but you’re really putting the whole world in danger to save one of your own again. That thing that he’s growing inside of him? It’s a _monster_.”

     “It’s really not. You have to listen. She’s not a monster.”

     “She?” Mick’s expression is hard. “You American lot really are too sentimental. This is not a person! I have to obey the Code. I have to kill it. And I have to kill the angel, too.” His gaze darkens. “Move out of the way, Dean.”

     Dean huffs. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

     “If I must, though I certainly don’t want to. This is your final warning. I’ll give you—” With a thud, Mick falls to the ground. Sam stands over him, a heavy book in his hands.

     Cas sighs heavily, and Dean quickly turns to face him. “You okay?” he demands.

     “Yes,” Cas says. “I’m just relieved.” He looks to Sam. “Good timing, Sam. Thank you.”

     “Yeah, Cas. No problem.” He drops the book to his side, and wipes his brow. “So, what are we gonna do about this? I’m stumped.”

     “Easy,” Dean says, scooping Mick’s gun from the ground and cocking it. “He’s gotta go.”

     “Dean, wait,” Cas says, putting a hand out to stop him. “We can’t do that.”

     “What the hell, Cas? He was gonna kill you in cold blood. Let’s put our principles aside for a moment to remember that.”

     “I’d advise you to do the same,” Cas says coolly. “I know, in your minds, he deserves to die for this, but we need to think about what the consequences will be for that.”

     Dean rolls his eyes. “Not like you cared about that before,” he mutters.

     “Well maybe after nearly causing the death of myself and my child, I’ve rethought a few things,” Cas bites back. “Killing Mick is not the right choice. It’s not in anyone’s best interests and it will only come back to haunt us.”

     “Cas is right,” Sam says. “Look, we know the British Men of Letters are highly organized. Mick goes missing, and they’re gonna look for him. It’s only a matter of time before they wind up on our doorstep.”

     “They may already know he is here,” Cas cuts in. “It’s likely that he reported where he was going before he left their base.”

     Dean rubs his eyes in frustration. “Fine,” he snaps. “What are we gonna do though? Try to _talk_ to him? Work things out? Group mediation?” Both Sam and Cas stare at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

 

     Mick wakes up a few minutes later as they clap him into restraints. “What the . . . ? Oh fuck,” he mutters, as he comes to his senses. He takes a moment to survey his surroundings. Dean watches as Mick takes in the chair, his restraints, the table of torture tools that Dean is itching to use on the son of a bitch . . . He glances at Cas and feels himself cool down. He has to stay in control. For Cas. And their child.

     “The torture room,” Mick says. “How fitting.”

     “No torture today,” Dean says. He quirks a brow. “Maybe tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

     “Dean,” Sam admonishes him, shaking his head. He turns back to Mick. “No, no torture. We just want to talk.”

     “Right, that’s why I’m cuffed to a chair in your dungeon. I’m sure this will be a normal chat between friends.”

     “It’s just a precaution,” Sam says.

     “You really wanna pretend you wouldn’t be beating Cas to a pulp right now if you weren’t strapped to that chair?” Dean asks.

     Mick looks over at Cas, first his face, and then down to his belly. “I suppose you have a point there. What do you want from me though? Do you really think this is going to work? That the Men of Letters won’t come looking for me?”

     “We just want to talk to you,” Cas says, taking a step forwards. “This situation is more complicated than you realize. Please, just listen and give us a chance.”

     Mick’s eyes narrow, and he leans back in the chair a bit. “Fine, I’ll listen. But I’m telling you, there’s no point to it. You won’t change my mind. What you’re carrying is an abomination.”

     “Okay, about that,” Dean cuts in. “First of all, it’s not a nephilim.”

     “I know,” Mick says with a scoff. Dean glances at Cas in confusion. “It’s a natalux. Assuming that the father is human, of course.” None of them respond, stunned by Mick’s knowledge. “I studied basic angel reproductive theory, just like every other Kendricks student.”

     “That makes one of us,” Cas grumbles, rubbing his swollen belly.

     “What did you call it?” Sam asks. “A ‘natalux?’”

     “Well, it’s not one of those, either,” Dean says. “See, Cas is human now.”

     “Human?” His brow furrows. “For how long?”

     “I’ve been losing my grace for months now, since before my pregnancy. This child . . . she does have powers, but she’s more human than angel.” He looks down and smiles.

     Mick deflates a bit. “I do admit, I wasn’t as knowledgeable on the situation as I thought I was.”

     “That’s okay,” Sam says quickly. “Listen, we’ve learned a lot in these past few months. About angels, nephilim, all of it. Just – try to keep an open mind and hear us out. Okay?”

     Mick hesitates, but ultimately says, “okay.”

 

     He takes it fairly well, all the talk of Heaven and nephilim. Mick seems to respect what Joshua has said to Cas at the very least, and he seems to trust that Cas’s words are sincere and not falsified. He asks a lot of questions, and Cas and Sam do a lot of the talking, filling in blanks about Joshua’s words and the research they’ve done.

     There is an unspoken agreement to not talk about Rowena. The situation is complicated enough without bringing a witch into the equation. Dean just hopes she doesn’t come back to the Bunker until Mick is gone. Sam had texted her while Mick was unconscious, but they have no way of knowing whether she received the message or not. Their phones are silenced as a precaution. They don’t want Mick to get curious about who they’re communicating with outside of this room.

     “The big thing you need to understand,” Sam says, wrapping the conversation up, “is that there’s no evidence of nephilim or any other angel offspring creating mass destruction. There are stories, of course, but no first hand accounts. God encouraged these rumors to spread not so that we would kill nephilim, but so angels would stop hurting innocent people and raising their children to be warriors.”

     “I understand,” Mick says. “There have been so many holes in the lore regarding angel offspring. It makes sense now.”

     “So you believe us?” Dean asks. “You’re not going to kill Cas.”

     “I . . .” he looks to Cas with regretful eyes. “I don’t _want_ to kill him. But the Men of Letters Code is quite clear on unknown supernatural creatures. I can’t ignore that.”

     “For fuck’s sake,” Dean exclaims, throwing his hands up and stomping away. “You’re gonna take two innocent lives for a fucking Code?”

     “Mick, please. I know you respect facts, and what we’re telling you is true,” Sam says. “Don’t do this.”

     “I know what it’s like to feel bound by a sense of duty,” Cas says suddenly. The room goes quiet, and Dean turns back to face him. Cas has an intense look in his eyes. He stands straight, with one hand rested confidently on his belly. Dean could swear he was glowing. He looked . . . powerful. For the first time in months.

     “As an angel, I knew that not everything we did was right. I did it anyways because those were my orders, and I had faith in our mission. I assumed that my own opinions were wrong because if they weren’t, that meant our cause was flawed. I couldn’t accept that. But what I grew to realize is that no mission is perfect, and no one, man or angel, has fully pure intentions.” Cas smiles ever so slightly. “I learned to trust my own judgment. I haven’t always been right, but the choice has been mine. I’ve never had to wonder if I’d done damage to the world by blindly following rather than creating my own path.”

     “But how do I know if this is right?” Mick asks. “For all I know, you’re all lying to me. You certainly have the motive.”

     Cas pauses, clearly thinking. “If we can’t convince you, let her.”

     Mick’s eyes widen. “She speaks to you?”

     “Not verbally, but yes, she has communicated in her own way to all of us. Dean, she responds to every time. It’s like a warm glow whenever he is near her, and she always kicks for him. Sam and Mary have felt her emotions. She reached out to both of them and conveyed her thoughts. Let her speak to you.”

     “Cas, no,” Dean says, rushing forwards to stop him from undoing Mick’s restraints. “Dude, he could kill you.”

     “Dean, _yes_ ,” Cas insists. “We need to show that this is in good faith.” He turns back to Mick. “We do not wish to harm you, nor do I want to see the destruction of the world. You must believe that we are being truthful.”

     “I won’t harm you,” Mick says. “Not yet. I’ll give you a fair chance.” Dean glares. “I swear. I will be fair to you.”

     Dean is unhappy, but he knows it’s Cas’s decision to make. He waits for him to take the lead.

     Ultimately, the cuffs are removed, and Cas brings Mick’s hand to his belly.

 

     And they wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's going to happen? Will the baby convince Mick to not hurt her or Cas?!!


	15. Chapter 15

     Just like Dean expects to happen, Mick stands up very quickly, catching Cas off guard, and causing him to stumble back a few steps.

     What Dean doesn’t expect is that rather than hurting Cas, Mick simply pushes past him, and rushes to the stairs. For a moment, they’re all too shocked to do a thing, Dean included.

     Mick turns back to face them after placing a foot on the first step. “Well, are you coming?”

     Dean stares, open mouthed. “W-where?” he asks stupidly after a moment. He blinks a few times before jogging a few strides to catch up to Cas and Sam, who have already shrugged their shoulders and begun to follow Mick.

     “Let’s see,” Mick says, rushing down the hall of bedrooms. “If I’m correct, it should be here.”

     “What should be here?” Cas asks, but Mick ignores him. He finally stops at Room 17, which is currently being used for storage, and turns inside.

     “Uhhh, what are we looking for here?” Dean asks as Mick pushes against a heavy bookcase. Despite not knowing what they’re looking for, both Sam and Dean help him move it aside. Cas tries to help, too, but Dean shoots him a look that clearly says, _you are pregnant and there is no way I am letting you move **anything** heavy._ Cas rolls his eyes, but steps away.

     “There should be a brick that’s not like the others. Either a different size, or shape, or—ah. Here we are.” One brick is lighter in color than all the rest. Mick pushes against it, and to Dean’s surprise, it moves backwards into the wall.

     A good portion of the wall swings inwards, like a door. In fact, that’s what it is, Dean realizes. A secret door, hidden in plain sight.

     “Come see for yourselves. You’ll want to get familiar with this place,” Mick says, stepping inside.

     “What the hell?” Sam mutters.

     Dean tries (and fails) to wipe the excited look off his face. He’s aware as he looks back at Cas, hand outstretched to help him through the door, that he’s still grinning like a loon. A slight smile curls Cas’s lips as well in understanding.

     “Dude. This is awesome.” Cas grasps his hand and lets him guide him through the wall into the secret room.

     It looks like something right out of a fantasy book. The room has sturdy stone walls illuminated by lanterns that had somehow lit themselves as they entered. The floor is made from smoother, darker stones, and the ceiling arches high above their heads. There are no windows, and there aren’t many items in the room, only a few antique pieces of furniture. The room has a set of dressers, a few chairs, a desk, and a regal looking king-size bed that Dean kind of wants to throw himself onto to find out how it feels.

     “You’ll want to start stocking up provisions, just in case they’re needed. And you’ll want to explore the tunnels as well when you get the chance.”

     “There are tunnels?” Dean exclaims. Now that Mick has mentioned it, he notices a gate on the far wall, blocking a narrow opening. “ _Dude.”_

     “They all lead to the outside, some quicker than others, however,” Mick explains.

     “I just —” Sam stammers, “How? I mean, I’ve looked at the floor plans to the Bunker before. I’ve studied them, and we know about all the secret rooms because of it. But . . . this one doesn’t exist. Or at least it’s not supposed to.”

     “That’s the point,” Mick says. “It was intentionally left off all the floor plans in order to retain the highest level of secrecy possible.”

     “Then how are you aware of it?” Cas asks. “How did you even know it would be here, in our Bunker?”

     “Members of the Men of Letters are told about it through word-of-mouth once we reach a certain level of clearance. It’s the same for every Men of Letters base around the world, at least for all that have dormitories. Room 17, far wall in the left corner, the brick that doesn’t match the others. We all know to come here in the unlikely event of being attacked in one of our bases.”

     “So you have one of these, too? In your Bunker back in England?” Sam asks.

     Mick’s eyes dart around. “Well, it’s better stocked and furnished . . . more tastefully, but essentially, yes. Though every system of tunnels is different. I’d have no idea how to navigate yours, and it should stay that way for your own safety.”

   “For our own—,” Dean starts, and then the words sink in. “Okay, you gotta start explaining what’s going on. Why the hell did you bring us here?” His hand hovers near his gun, just in case Mick decides to bolt again.

     “I don’t think you realize exactly what kind of price there is on this child’s head,” Mick says. “A nephilim is rare, a natalux is unheard of, and some kind of combination between the two? There will never be more than one of its kind.”

     “So?”

     “So, whether it’s in the next few months before the child is born, or entire years from now, you can be sure that you will come under attack as others try to take it from you. There will be hunters, demons, monsters, even the Men of Letters themselves if someone else stumbles in here and sees what kind of state he’s in,” Mick explains, gesturing towards Cas on his last words. “And if my assumption is correct that this child is a Winchester,” he continues, glancing towards Dean who shrugs with a smug smile, “the demand will be even higher.”

     Sam nods thoughtfully. “So this room . . . Cas will be safe here if someone comes to attack us? Even the Men of Letters.”

     Mick sighs. “Mostly. It won’t hide you from my organization forever. They may check here last, but they _will_ check here eventually. But, it will hopefully buy you enough time to escape, which is why it’s important to familiarize yourself with these tunnels. That’s the one advantage you’ll have over them.”

     Dean furrows his brow. “So let me get this straight . . . You’re helping us? You’re on our side.”

     Mick swipes his tongue across his lip and looks up at the ceiling. “I can hardly believe it myself, but yes, I am.”

     “What did she say to you?” Cas asks.

     “Like you said, it wasn’t verbal, but . . . I could certainly feel intention there. I saw innocence, complete innocence, and I knew that that wasn’t what our Code is meant to protect us from.” Mick shakes his head. “They say rules are meant to be broken. I didn’t expect it to be for this, but here we are.”

     “So you’ll keep quiet then,” Dean says skeptically.

     “Yes. And I’ll try to keep the other Men of Letters away from here if I can, but you must remain vigilant. There’s only so much I can do. And I can still hardly believe I’m doing it.”

     “We appreciate it,” Cas says quickly. “We really do.”

     “Yeah, and uh, thanks for the secret room,” Dean jokes, smile creeping back onto his face. “This place is awesome.”

     “My pleasure.” Mick checks his watch. “Well, I better go back to headquarters now, or they’ll be wondering where I am.” He rubs his head where Sam had hit him with the book. “I hope there’s not a noticeable lump.”

     “Sorry about that,” Sam says. “No lump, though.”

     “It was probably deserved.” They begin to walk back to the Bunker’s entrance, closing the door behind them. “For the record, I’m glad you stopped me.”

     “So what are you going to tell them?” Dean asks, pausing by the door.

     “You boys have got your noses to the grindstone trying to find Kelly Kline.” Cas frowns. “Look, I know you’d like to prove the innocence of both these children, but there’s only so much I can do. The other Men of Letters won’t be convinced. The best I can do is keep you hidden.”

     Cas sighs. “I wish there was another way, but I understand. Thank you for your help.”

     A strange heaviness hangs in the air after Mick leaves. It’s comforting to know they have a Man of Letters on their side, but it’s also a reminder of just how much danger Cas is in. Dean tries not to think about what will happen if Mick decides to turn on them. Come to think of it, they can’t really be sure that he isn’t lying, and heading to the Men of Letters headquarters to turn them in right now.

     Dean is pulled out of his thoughts as Cas lets out a small grunt and curls a hand over his belly. He leans forward and rubs a spot low in his abdomen.

     “Cas? You okay?”

     Cas breathes deeply and straightens up. “Yes. It was just a kick or something.” He rubs one of his eyes and allows Dean to pull a chair up. “I’m a bit tired from all of that.”

     “Honestly, me too,” Dean says. “God, what a nightmare.” He glances over at Sam, who is staring pensively at the door. “Hey,” he says, getting his younger brother’s attention.

     “Hey, Dean?”

     “What?”

     “I think it’s time we changed the locks.”

 

     The next hour is relatively peaceful. Sam receives a text from Rowena assuring him that she still has plenty to do anyways, and she’ll keep her distance from the Bunker for a while longer, when they can be sure Mick is gone. Dean dotes on Cas, who sits back in a comfy chair, grimacing every once in a while as the baby moves around.

     “Heh. Our little stinker is wound up today, isn’t she?”

     Cas shakes his head. “I wish she’d calm down,” he says, rubbing his swollen tummy. “It’s beginning to hurt.”

     Dean bends down and places a hand of his own on Cas’s belly, running his thumb in circles over Cas’s navel. The other man sighs, tipping his head back.

     There’s a knock on the door.

     All three men look at each other. “Who the hell could that be now?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs. “Okay, Cas, you stay there,” Dean says, realizing that Cas is out of view from the door. “Sam, let’s go.”

     They march up the Bunker steps, weapons ready. Dean swings the door open.

     There is a man standing outside who Dean has never seen before, but he can tell immediately from his stance that he is an angel. His shoulders stiffen, and he can see Sam straighten up at his side.

     Another man steps out from behind the first. This face looks familiar, but Dean can’t quite place it. After a second it clicks, and Dean drops his gun to his side in shock.

     “Joshua?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter! I know it's been a while, but rest assured, this story is not abandoned. I'm back at school, which means I have less time to write. The updates will be slow, but I promise I'm still working on this fic!

     “Joshua?” Cas exclaims from out of sight.

     Dean turns around. “Cas, don’t—” he starts, but Cas has already stepped into Joshua’s sightline. “C’mon man, really?”

     “Dean, it’s _Joshua,”_ Cas admonishes, as if that makes it any better.

     “Well, you could stand to be a bit more cautious,” Dean grumbles. Joshua raises an eyebrow. “No offense,” Dean says, pulling Cas against his side with a gentle hand at the waist. Thankfully, Joshua seems to take this all in good humor.

     “No, it’s good to be cautious these days,” Joshua says with a smile.

     “Joshua, Kelvin,” Cas says in greeting.

     “Castiel,” Joshua replies. “Or is it . . . ?”

     He hesitates, but only for a moment. “It’s Cas now,” he says firmly. The other angel, Kelvin, scowls, but Joshua’s lips spread into another knowing smile.

     “I should have known.” His eyes flicker down to Cas’s rounded belly. “May I?”

     “Of course,” Cas says before Dean can say “hell no.” Haven’t they had enough people groping Cas’s stomach today?

     Joshua’s hand is respectful and gentle, however. He smiles, and Dean thinks he can even see a glint of pride in his eyes. “The child grows well now. And you . . . you seem to be in much better shape than when we last met. I’m glad to see it.”

     “I am,” Cas says. His brow furrows. “I have to ask, Joshua, why are you here? Is there something we should be aware of? Anything bad?” He steps away from the door, allowing the two angels to enter the room fully. They walk down the stairs together as they talk, heading towards the table.

     “Quite the contrary. We’ve made some great progress regarding Kelly Kline.”

     “You have a lead on her location?” Sam asks as Dean pulls out a chair for Cas.

     “Even better,” Kelvin speaks up. “Dagon is dead, and Kelly is in our care.”

     “Really?” Sam exclaims, and even Dean can’t help a relieved smile at one less threat to worry about.

     Cas, on the other hand, looks wounded. “You didn’t say anything to us. Not even an update? We could have helped.”

     Joshua shakes his head. “Casti—Cas. I can see that your recovery is very recent. There’s nothing you could have done. It’s good that you’ve had this chance to rest.”

     “But—”

     “I told you when we last met that we would take care of Kelly Kline, and I’ve been true to my word. You needed to focus on you; on growing your child. It’s been for the best.”

     Cas huffs, defeated. “Fine, perhaps you’re correct. How is she though? Kelly?”

     Joshua smiles sadly. “Better now, though the pregnancy has been taxing. She’s still exhausted and very sore.”

     “I know the feeling,” Cas grumbles, rubbing his stomach with a wince.

     Joshua glances at Kelvin. “This is actually why we’ve come to speak with you. Despite being in our care, you know Kelly Kline will not survive the birth, don’t you?”

     “What?” exclaims Dean. “Wait, you can’t use your mojo to heal her or whatever? C’mon, you’re angels for God’s sake!”

     “You dare to use the Lord’s name—” Kelvin growls, stepping forward, but Joshua puts out an arm to stop him.

     “These won’t be normal injuries that the girl suffers,” Joshua explains softly. Birthing a nephilim is very taxing, not just on the body, but on the soul. And the offspring of an archangel . . .” He shakes his head. “Let’s just say that letting her be at rest is kinder. Otherwise, she will relive that trauma for the rest of her life.”

     “And does she know this?” Dean demands.

     “Yes, of course. We would not lie to her. She knows, and this is the path she has chosen. She is at peace with this.”

     “I don’t mean to be rude, but what does this have to do with us?” Sam asks. “You said there was something we should talk about.”

     Joshua nods. “It won’t be much longer before it happens. Kelly Kline is due to give birth any day, perhaps even just hours from now. The biggest issue now is figuring out what to do with the child once she is gone.”

     “You’re not going to kill it,” Dean snarls. “These kids, they’re innocent. You know that.”

     “Of course. We want the child to live peacefully. We bear no ill will towards it,” Joshua says. Kelvin’s face suggests that he disagrees, but he says nothing. “But we need to find it a home.” He gives them all a pointed look.

     Cas is the first to understand. “You want us to raise it.”

     “What?” Dean exclaims, shocked. He’s still getting used to the idea of them having their own child, never mind raising another. “You can’t be serious.”

     “I am,” Joshua says. “Kelly herself believes this to be the best option, knowing that you are expecting your own hybrid child, and I am inclined to agree. This child needs a home where they will be loved and understood, despite any unusual powers. I believe it would be best for both children to grow up with another like them.”

     “Yeah, but . . . our lives are so hectic and dangerous right now,” Dean protests. “I mean, not two hours ago, we were all staring down the barrel of a gun!” Cas hisses, whether from the memory or from a kick, Dean isn’t sure of until he presses a palm into the side of his swollen belly.

     “Which is why we have assigned other angels to care for the child until we can be sure that you will all be safe. We certainly don’t expect you to take on this responsibility until your own is born, but we cannot raise this child for their entire life. It wouldn’t be right.”

     Dean knows Joshua is correct, but the thought of raising the nephilim is a daunting one. “Look, I know the kid is innocent, believe me, but there’s still the fact that this is _Lucifer’s_ child we’re talking about. Don’t get me wrong, I know family doesn’t end with blood, but we’ve got bad history with that guy.” He turns to Cas and Sam. “Hell, you guys are the ones who’ve been possessed by him. Are you okay with this?”

     Sam blinks. “It’s a really strange thought . . . but it’s true that this child isn’t Lucifer. I mean, look at everything we’ve been through, everything we learned. We know by now that where you come from doesn’t determine who you are.”

     Dean shakes his head. “I swear, Sam, you’re too level-headed for your own good.” Sam barks out a laugh as Dean turns to Cas. “Cas? What do you think?”

     “I agree,” Cas says, and of course he does. “This is what’s right. We should take the child into our care, once it’s safe to do so, of course. And we should respect Kelly’s wishes, as well.” He glances down. “But only if you want to, Dean. I won’t make such an important decision on my own if you are unhappy with it.”

     Warmth floods Dean’s chest, and he runs a loving hand through Cas’s hair. “You’re both saints, I swear.” He shrugs. “Yeah, okay. I mean, it’s gonna take me some getting used to the idea, but you’re both right.”

     “So you’ll do it?” Kelvin asks, the slightest bit of impatience in his tone.

     Cas grunts, curling over. He lets out a small sigh as the pain subsides, and notices both angels looking at him curiously. “Sorry, she’s been a bit restless today,” he says, massaging the underside of his belly. He glances at Dean. “Yes, we’ll do it once we’re not under threat of attack.”

     “Then it is settled.” They rise from the table. “We should go now. It’s best to be there for Kelly right now.”

     “Of course,” Cas says, unperturbed by the abrupt visit. They walk back towards the Bunker door, prepared to say goodbye.

     Joshua smiles, resting a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “You’ve done well on Earth, Cas. I’m proud of how you’ve grown.”

     Dean takes a deep breath as the two angels leave. As much as they’ve helped Cas this time around, Dean can’t quite let go of all the times the angels have hurt or tried to kill him.

     Cas does not seem to be equally relieved. He frowns, rubbing his belly, one hand on his lower back for support as he arches it. It reminds Dean of when Cas first came back to live at the Bunker after being gone for so long, when the pain was just starting to bother him.

     “Cas, you good?”

     Cas arches a brow, as he gingerly walks back towards the table. “It’s much better than I’m used to. But I suppose some discomfort is to be expected until the spell has time to truly take hold and heal all the damage that’s been done.” Dean slips his hand around the back of Cas’s shoulders, settling it right in the crook of his collarbone and stroking gently.

     “So,” Sam says, “I guess we’re doing this.”

     “Yeah,” Dean says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I never would have dreamed it in a million years, but I guess we are.”

     Cas tips his head and looks up at him. “I know you were less than satisfied with these arrangements, Dean. Are you sure this is going to be okay?”

     Dean offers a small smile. “There’s no way of knowing if it’ll be okay until it happens. But the more I think about it, the better of an idea I think it is. Yeah, the kid is Lucifer’s, but it’s also Kelly’s, and she’s good people. And . . . maybe this will be the best thing. For both her kid and ours.” He looks at Sam, who seems to be happy and at ease. “I gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d be on board with this. You’ve had it the worst with the devil.”

     Sam shrugs. “I’ve also been given a lot of second chances. At the very least, I could give this kid a first.”

     Dean opens his mouth to respond, but is stopped by a sharp gasp from Cas. He finds himself quickly at Cas’s feet, a concerned hand squeezing his arm. “Hey, buddy, are you sure you’re okay?” Cas’s eyes are wide and blinking as he leans back in his chair, hand pressed hard against his swollen belly. The look he gives Dean a moment later as his breathing picks up again is not encouraging. His eyes stay wide as a worried crease appears on his forehead. “Cas?” Dean prompts nervously.

     Cas’s lips form words, but no sound comes out, as if his breath has been sucked right out of him. His eyes squeeze tight and his mouth stretches open, another hand flying to meet his abdomen. Finally words come out, strained and breathless: “S-something is wrong.”

     “Cas? What is it?” Dean asks, but Cas has returned to mouthing soundlessly. “Hey, you gotta tell me what it. Hey, hey, it’s okay, buddy. C’mon.”

     “That was a contraction,” he spits out. “I’m sure of it. D-dean, I think I’m in labor.”

     Dean’s blood runs cold. “What? No, man, it’s way too early. It has to be something el—”

     “ _Dean,_ ” Cas snaps. “I know enough about the human body to know what a contraction would feel like. I know for a fact that I’m experiencing one right now.”

     Dean’s first urge is to argue, but he knows this is not a situation Cas would take lightly. As much as he’d like to be in denial, if Cas says he’s in labor, he is in labor. Which means Dean needs to figure out a way to stop it. “Sam, call Rowena.” Sam just looks at him, stunned. “Sam, now!” he says frantically, snapping Sam out of his daze and into action. “Okay, okay, we’ll figure this all out, okay?” he says to Cas, trying to sound calm, and to not grip Cas’s knee as he rubs it soothingly. He glances back at Sam, quickly tapping Rowena’s name and holding the phone to his ear. “Put it on speaker.”

     The witch picks up on the third ring. “Really Sam, first the texts about the Men of Letters, now this?” Dean can practically see her brush her hair back with a smirk as she says, “You’re becoming a wee bit clingy, don’t you think?”

     “Rowena, there’s no time for this,” Dean says, turning his head slightly towards Sam, but keeping a careful eye on Cas. He seems to be in less pain now, but the shell-shocked expression has not left his face. “Cas is in pain again; he says it’s a contraction this time.”

     “Not possible. He’s likely just stressed out from everything that’s happened today. Get him a nice cup of tea, and—”

     “I know what I felt, Rowena,” Cas growls. “It was a contraction. You have to come over and stop this.”

     Cas is clearly scared for the baby and agitated by Rowena, and Dean doesn’t want to worry him any further. “Sam,” he says, “let me talk to her. Sit with Cas and make sure he’s okay.” Sam nods and hands the phone off. Dean turns it off speaker and waits until he’s left the room to say, “Look, Cas is sure it’s a contraction, and we just have to trust him on this. He’s been through enough forms of pain to know the difference. Is there any way this is possible? Any way at all?”

     Rowena lets out a long sigh. “I would think the spell would protect him from going into labor prematurely, but there is a chance that him being human could negatively effect that protection. I suppose he could give birth too soon.”

     “Could it have been triggered by everything that’s happened this afternoon?” Dean asks. He shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is, can we stop it?”

     “ _You_ can’t, but I may be able to help once I get back.”

     “How long?” Dean asks. A tense breath shudders out of him.

     “I can be there in less than a half hour. The angel should still be fine by then. How far apart are they?”

     “What?”

     “The contractions. How far apart?”

     “Oh, um. . . I don’t know. He just had his first one a minute ago. Hasn’t had another yet.”

     “Then he should be okay. Get him in bed, give him some water, make sure he’s comfortable, and keep him calm. I’m on my way.”

     “Okay,” Dean whispers nervously, even though she’s already hung up the phone.

     “What’s happening?” Cas pleads as Dean comes back into the room. “Can she stop it?”

     “She says not to worry. She’s on her way and she’s gonna make sure you’re okay.” Cas looks unconvinced, but Dean isn’t sure how to soothe him. He’s not stupid, and he won’t fall for any of the lies popping into Dean’s mind. In the end, he decides that getting down to action is the best way to keep Cas at ease. “Can you walk?”

     “Yes, the contraction stopped about a minute ago. I feel fine now, but. . .”

     “It’s okay,” Dean says quickly. “Come on, Rowena said it’ll be best if you get off your feet for a bit.” He wraps his arm around Cas’s torso, but it doesn’t seem to be necessary. Cas walks with ease, if not a bit more carefully than usual.

     The next thirty minutes are long, but Dean does his best to keep Cas distracted. It becomes difficult when Cas has a second contraction, but Dean is there with gentle words and soothing touches.

     Relief washes over him when Rowena comes into his room, Sam hovering anxiously behind her. She takes one look at Cas, and rolls her eyes. “He’s not in labor.”

     “Yes I am. I’m sure,” Cas growls dangerously, but she takes it in stride, seemingly unruffled by his aggression.

     “You’re not, and I will prove it,” she says. She turns to Dean. “How long since the last contraction?”

     “About fifteen minutes. And Cas is sure he’s in labor.”

     “Mhmmm. Here, put your hand on his belly, and wait for the next one to come. It shouldn’t be much longer.” Cas continues to glare. “You too, angel, though I imagine you may be a bit distracted.”

     It doesn’t take long for the next contraction to come. Dean’s brow furrows in concern as Cas’s eyes fill with pain and he squeezes Dean’s free hand.

     “Stop watching,” Rowena orders, and puts her hand on top of Dean’s. “What do you _feel_?”

     “Nothing,” Dean blurts. His eyebrows creep up in surprise as he processes his own statement. He looks down at his hand resting on Cas’s stomach, and back at Rowena. “There’s nothing. He’s completely still. The muscles aren’t doing a thing.”

     “What?” Cas gasps. “But I can—” He looks down at his own hand. “Impossible. The pain is real, but. . .”

     “You’re not in labor right now,” Rowena says softly. “Kelly Kline is. What you’re feeling is _her_ contractions, not your own.”

     “Like some kind of psychic link?” Cas asks.

     “Yes, exactly. You both are carrying human-angel hybrids, so I can’t say I’m surprised. Both your children have unique powers.”

     Dean leans back with a sigh. “So, it’s fine then? Cas is okay.”

     Rowena frowns. “I wish I could say yes, but it’s not that simple. Cas hasn’t had enough time to heal since we cast the spell. I worry he won’t be able to withstand the damage from the pain of a nephilim birth.”

     “So you’re saying he could die?” Dean exclaims. “There’s gotta be a way to stop this. Break the link.”

     “We can’t,” Sam says with horrified eyes. “You can’t break a psychic link like this. It’s not possible.”

     “No, but it _can_ be transferred,” Rowena says. “It could be taken on by a willing participant.” She digs in her bag, pulling out a silver charm. “With the right incantation, this could do it.”

     “So what?” Dean asks. “It’ll take Cas’s pain and transfer it to another person? Or – Kelly’s pain, I guess?”

     “Exactly.”

     “I’ll do it,” Dean says, ignoring Cas’s soft “Dean, no.” “I have to, Cas. You’re not dying.”

     Rowena shakes her head. “You wouldn’t survive it. A human soul, not even slightly fortified by magic? It’ll splinter into pieces.”

     “I can take it,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “I’m not gonna let Cas die.”

     “No, Dean, you can’t,” Cas snaps. “You’re not doing this. Rowena is right, you’d have no chance of survival.”

     “Then, I will,” says Sam. “I’ve been practicing magic for a little while now. My soul will be able to withstand it better.”

     Rowena holds the charm up towards him, and sighs in disappointment. “No, you won’t be able to take it either, Sam. You’re a talented young witch, but there’s not enough experience there. Your soul hasn’t built up a protective layer yet.” She holds it towards Cas. “You’d have a shot, but the odds are not good.” She barely passes the charm over Dean before saying, “ _You_ wouldn’t stand a chance.”

     The charm comes to rest back in front of her. She stares at it for a moment before realization dawns on her face. She rolls her eyes, not before Dean can catch the ghost of something unspoken shimmering behind her irises. “Good Lord, really?”

     “What?” Dean demands.

     Her eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Of course. It has to be _me_.” She glares at the silver charm spinning in her hand. “Bollocks.”


	17. Chapter 17

     “You?” Dean asks incredulously.

     “You would do that?” Cas says softly, finishing the thought that Dean didn’t have all the words to convey. “You would take the pain of Kelly’s labor to save me?”

     “Och, don’t get your feathers in a twist, angel. I’m doing this so I get my payment in the end,” Rowena scoffs, but she can’t hide the tinge of pink filling her cheeks.

     “Rowena . . .” Sam says.

     “You can’t,” Cas protests. “I . . . thank you. You’ve done so much to help.” He shakes his head. “But this is too much to ask from you.”

     “Oi!” Rowena shouts, startling all three of them. “I’m not _offering_ or whatever you think this is; I’m _telling_ you how it’s going to be!” She stamps her foot impatiently, letting out a huff of air. “Now Samuel, hurry over and start the spell. We don’t have all day.” Sam stares blankly at her. “Or are you my apprentice for nothing now?”

     “I . . .” He blinks. “You want _me_ to do the spell?”

     She rolls her eyes. “Do you see anyone else here who can do it?”

    Cas clears his throat. “Technically, as a former angel, I could—” Dean cuts him off with an admonishing look.

     “Rowena,” Sam reasons. “This is tough magic. Really advanced stuff. I mean, it’s not complicated, but this isn’t like a restorative spell. The wrong pronunciation could screw things up and put you in danger. I’m not sure if you want me doing this.”

     “Well, I am,” she says, causing Sam to take a step back. “I _am_ sure. You may not have the experience to take the link from Cas, but you’ve certainly got the talent and the brains to cast the spell.”

     “If I mess up, both you and Cas could be in danger.”

     “You won’t,” she insists. “ _You_ were largely responsible for the success of the restorative spell. You have to have faith in your skills or you’ll never _truly_ master the craft, Sam.”

     “That was different though,” he says. “We knew it couldn’t backfire. And you were supervising me.”

     “And I still will be. I’ll _be here_ , I’m just handing over the reins for a moment.” Her eyes soften just for a few seconds before gaining an impish glint. “Besides, the spell is mostly just incantation, and you know as well as I that that’s your strongest suit.”

     Sam shakes his head, letting out a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Fine, I’ll do it.”

     “Fantastic,” she says dully, rolling her eyes. “Now come cast it before I gain the sense to change my bloody mind.” She bites her lip. “This’ll hardly be a walk in the park for me, you know.”

     “I know,” Sam mumbles. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

     Her eyes flutter closed. “Of course not. But what choice do we have?” She shakes her head, and her eyelids slowly open. “Enough chatting. Let’s begin.”

 

     It doesn’t take long to set up. Sam lights some candles as Rowena polishes the silver charm. Dean steps out to prepare Rowena’s room, figuring it’s the least he can do to plug in a spare TV from one of the other guest rooms and add a few more pillows to her bed. In just a minute, they are ready to transfer the psychic link from Cas to Rowena.

     “How much longer do we have?” she asks once they are all set up.

     Dean checks his watch. “’Bout three minutes ‘til the next one.”

     “It’s too risky to transfer the link while a contraction is happening. We’ll wait for the next one.” She eyes Cas carefully. “Can you withstand another, Castiel?”

     “I’ll be fine,” Cas assures her. “They’re not so bad yet. I was more shocked than anything.” He shifts his hips uncomfortably. “It’ll be soon. I can feel it coming.”

     Dean takes his hand in anticipation. Sure enough, just a few moments later, Cas grunts and squeezes Dean’s hand, hiking his hips up as another wave of pain washes through him. Dean can’t help but curiously place his free hand on Cas’s abdomen. Sure enough, it’s completely still.

     Not quite a minute later, Cas stills and lets out a curative breath. “It’s passed,” he says. “Let’s do the spell now.”

     “You’re gonna have to stand,” Sam warns him. “Can you manage?”

     “Yes, I’ll be okay,” Cas says, pushing the blankets off him. Dean helps him to his feet, but he really doesn’t need the assistance. He stands strongly without the slightest bit of sway. With a jolt, Dean realizes that it’s been a long time since Cas could stand on his own like this.

     “Ready?” Sam asks, looking back and forth between Cas and Rowena. The witch shudders out a nervous breath. “Aye, let’s get it over with.” She grabs Cas’s hands and closes her eyes as Sam begins to chant.

     “ _In hac leporem, ego tolle filio vinculum_

_In hac leporem, ego tolle parentis vinculum_

_Ego tolle nexu et dabo ad unus ordinem recipere velle.”_

     Whatever Dean expected, it wasn’t . . . nothing. Sam finishes reading the incantation, and Rowena unceremoniously drops Cas’s hands, going back to the table to shuffle through her bag without a word. “Uhh, is that it?” Dean asks.

     Rowena shoots him a look. “What did ye expect, I’d start screaming and thrashing about right away?” Dean flushes. “Sam spoke correctly, the spell worked. You’d have reason to be worried if there _was_ a physical sign.”

     Dean shakes his head. “Alright then. Uh, by the way, I brought some stuff into your room. Hopefully it’ll be a bit more comfortable.”

     “For when the time comes,” Sam says nervously. “You’ll probably just want to keep busy for now. Until the contractions get closer—”

     Rowena rolls her eyes. “Yes, _thank you_ Samuel, I do know how childbirth works.” She cocks an eyebrow. “Even if that isn’t exactly what this is.”

     Dean feels awkward. He knows how to take care of a person in pain; he knows they’ll be tending to Rowena later as the worst of it comes, but now? While they wait? Rowena isn’t going to want to spend the rest of the day in bed, but Dean also feels responsible for watching over her. After all, she is taking on a big task to save Cas. What do they do between (Kelly’s) contractions? What do they do while the pain is still mild?

     Thankfully, Cas is a bit better at this sort of thing than he is, and actually asks the logical question, “Rowena, what do you need right now? Can we help with anything?”

     The witch looks around the space. “Sam needs to keep hold of the charm, but the candles will keep burning on their own. There’s not much to do, but wait.” She gestures to the large bag sitting on Cas’s desk. “I’ll probably just take the ingredients I bought today and sort through them in the meantime. There’s still work to be done.”

     “We’ve still got a bunch to do in the library,” Sam says, slipping the charm into his breast pocket. “There’s plenty of space for you to organize your stuff down there. And I’ll be able to keep an eye on you and make sure the spell is working.”

 

     Dean clears a table for Rowena, dumping all the clutter onto another. “Hey, uh . . . thanks,” he says softly as she places her bag down. He puts a hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him. “Really, thank you.”

     “You owe me one, Winchester,” she says, but there’s no threat behind her eyes. Instead, Dean sees . . . warmth maybe? “Now stop idling about and get to work. You still need to keep your angel well, don’t you?”

     It’s true; Cas is still going to have a rough time over the next few months, and the more they learn about his pregnancy, the easier it will be. The library is still filled with unshelved books and hundreds of pages of notes that need to be filed away in some way. The work is easy, but requires concentration, and Dean gets sucked into the pattern of it.

     What seems like only a bit later, he checks his watch and is alarmed to find that a full hour has already passed without incident. “Hey,” he says, whacking Sam’s shoulder. “It’s been a while. Are we sure the spell is working? You didn’t accidentally curse some poor civilian, did you?”

     “It’s working,” Rowena says, and the strain in her voice is not lost on Dean. He turns around, suddenly noticing that the witch isn’t sorting through her witchy stuff, but is hunched over the table with a white-knuckled grip on its edges.

     He hurries to her side, bringing a comforting hand to her back without a second thought. “Hey,” he says, brimming with concern. “You okay?”

     “I’m fine!” she snaps, pushing him away. She stumbles slightly, falling heavier against the table. “Just as I was fine for the four before this one. Go back and do your work.”

     “Four?!” Dean is inclined to protest further, but the way she is glaring daggers him is enough to turn him around and march him obediently back to the table. When he dares to look up again, she is stuffing leaves into a jar as if nothing had happened at all. He glances and Sam and Cas, both pointedly buried in their reading. When he looks back up at Rowena for a final time, she is glaring at him once more, and he decides it’s better to not risk eye contact for a while.

     A significant amount of time later, he is startled by the sound of glass breaking. Rowena is bent fully over the table this time, and a (thankfully empty) vial is in pieces on the floor. Once again, he goes to her, and she yells, “Leave me _alone_ , Winchester!” between ragged breaths.

     Dean grabs her wrists to keep her from pushing him away again, but his hold is loose. “Rowena,” he says as gently as possible. “How far apart?”

     Her eyes flutter closed under a furrowed brow. “Less than ten minutes now,” she admits, almost melting into his hold. “And getting stronger every time.”

     He sighs. “Come on, I think it’s time for you to at least sit down now.” He pretends not to notice as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. He is aware that Cas and Sam have joined, and stand behind him.

     “No!” she says with renewed ferocity. “I’ve told you I’m fine! This isn’t _real_. It’s just my mind.”

     “Rowena, it _is_ real,” Sam says. “The pain is _real_ , even if it’s not yours.” He wraps an arm around her. “Come on, we should get you more comfortable.”

     Breaths shudder out of her in quick succession. “No, it’s not real, it’s not real, it _can’t_ be real,” she whimpers, curling around herself. Dean’s brow furrows, noticing how her eyes are focused on something far away from them.

     “Wrong choice of words,” Sam backtracks. “I just mean, you must be exhausted. Let us help you get more comfortable.”

     “Go away,” she cries, stumbling away to lean over the table once more. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need you, Roderick!” The room goes silent except for the sound of Rowena’s breath catching. She looks up, just barely. “Sam. I mean Sam. I don’t—” Another breath is stuck in her throat.

     Dean and Sam exchange glances, and with that, a silent agreement to not address Rowena’s slip-up, at least not yet. “It’s okay,” Sam says, and Rowena actually looks relieved to be distracted by another wave of pain. She bends over with a small grunt, but her expression is somehow less distressed than it was a moment before. “We know you don’t need our help. But we _want_ to help.”

     “Especially since _you’re_ helping _us_ ,” Cas chimes in.

     “So please,” Sam says, “let us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell:  
> "With this charm, I take the child’s bond  
> With this charm, I take the parent’s bond  
> I take this connection and give to one willing to receive."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I hope to get at least one more chapter out during winter break before I go back to school. Thanks for your patience! I'm sorry updates have been so slow lately.

     “So please, let us?”

 

     In the end, she lets them.

     It takes a moment for Rowena to agree, but once the pain has stopped, and her breathing returns to normal, she seems to see the logic in Sam’s words. Just a minute later, they all head upstairs to her room, Sam keeping a careful hand at her back, just in case she stumbles.

     “Hey, you want something more comfortable to wear? Mom left a pair of sweats, and I can give you one of my t-shirts,” Sam offers.

     The first thing Dean thinks when Rowena steps out in Sam’s huge v-neck t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that keeps sliding down her hips is that it all looks wrong. The witch is usually vibrant and powerful in elegant gowns and perfectly curled hair. Now, she stands before him in clothes twice her size, swallowed by them, but not enough to hide the fact that she is pale, and ever so slightly trembling. Her stomach is, of course, flat, but her hand is gently curved over it, as if she can feel the ghost of an actual bump. She winces, pressing her palm against her middle. Since the pain is not real, however, it does nothing to help.

     It nearly makes him sick.

     Not that Rowena has a spotless past, far from it, but once again, he’s managed to hurt another person. A person who was doing her best to help him. That seems to always be the case: get close to Dean Winchester, pay dearly for it.

     But something draws his attention back to her face. Despite the magnitude of the frightening situation she has to endure, she has a confident, intense look in her eyes. And for a brief moment, her lip curls into the smallest smile.

     It hits him like a ton of bricks. She’s a fucking Winchester.

     He’s not sure quite when it happened. They’ve all grown closer under the pressure of the last week. But somehow, the fierce little witch who once caused them worlds of trouble has wormed her way into the family.

     It all becomes a bit too overwhelming, and he excuses himself to go make her a cup of tea. Cas is quick to follow, but says nothing, intuitively knowing that Dean needs a few moments alone with his thoughts.

     Once the kettle is on (Dean won’t make the mistake of serving Rowena tea out of the microwave again after being told off the first time), he turns to Cas, who meets him with a reassuring smile.

     “Think she’ll be okay?” Dean asks, a bit too casually to fool either of them.

     “Yes,” Cas says, “though I can’t help but feel this is partially my fault.”

     “Cas, come on. You know it’s not.”

     Cas’s face falls, and he forms the all-familiar puppy dog eyes. “If I had only been stronger, I could—”

     “Cas, no, don’t even go there,” Dean chides, taking him by the shoulders. “Don’t do this to yourself, man. You could _not_ have done anything. It’s a sucky situation all around, and Rowena stepped up to the plate. She knows what she’s doing, and like you said, she’ll be fine.”

     “She’ll be fine,” Cas repeats, though he sounds unconvinced. Dean almost says, “yeah, me too,” because he feels on the same page. Yes, Rowena will be okay, but he won’t really be able to believe it until the ordeal is over.

     Sighing, he pushes his stress out of his mind, reaching for Cas’s hand. Cas hums softly as Dean massages his thumb in circles on Cas’s palm.

     “It’s weird,” Dean says softly. “You realize we’ve never just had a moment to breathe like this? How much . . . normal couple stuff we’ve just skipped over?”

     Cas snorts. “I didn’t realize we were meant to be a ‘normal couple.’”

     Dean chuckles, pulling Cas closer. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Cas’s back is pressed against Dean’s chest, and his head falls into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He sighs. “Still, you know what I mean, right?”

     “Yes. Though I’m feeling quite happy now.” His head turns to look back at Dean. “Are you?”

     Dean leans forward and kisses him as an answer. Cas hums happily once more before pulling away, and settling back against Dean.

     Dean’s hand slides up the side of Cas’s hip, and around the swell of his growing belly. “And how’s baby?”

     He feels the air around him pulse in a warm response, but Cas still confirms, “Much better now.”

     “And you?”

     “I’m fine,” Cas insists, lacing his fingers with Dean’s, and allowing their joined hands to stroke his distended abdomen. “Better than I’ve been in months.”

     “You know, ‘fine’ is Winchester-speak for . . . anything other than fine.”

     Cas tilts his head back and smiles slightly. “I mean it, Dean. The spell worked.”

     “Well, good. You know I’m still gonna worry though, right?” He pauses for a moment before asking, “What does it feel like?”

     “What? Being pregnant?”

     “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

     “My abdomen feels . . . heavy,” he says, moving their hands lower so that they support the arch of his rounded belly. “And it feels like I am constantly moving in slow motion.” He turns, giving Dean a level look. “I doubt that is the typical pregnancy experience. Regardless, I am no longer in pain.”

     “Slow motion,” Dean repeats.

     “Likely a side-effect of losing my grace. But it’s okay. It just takes some getting used to.” Dean remains unconvinced. “I’m _happy_ ,” Cas insists.

     Dean looks down at Cas’s hand, still in his own, and strokes his thumb across Cas’s knuckles. “You know I was worried about you.”

     “Yes,” Cas says. “I know.” He leans in with a little smile, and Dean meets him halfway, bringing their lips together. As they pull apart, Cas says, “We should probably go back up now. It seems like Kelly’s labor is progressing quickly, and Rowena will need all the distractions she can get.”

     Sam and Rowena’s voices drift down the hall as they get closer. Dean catches the tail end of Rowena’s sentence: “—much more comfortable than it was when it happened for real.”

     He puts a hand out silently, and Cas stops, understanding that they’re about to intrude on a semi-private moment.

     “So, Roderick…” Sam starts.

     “Fergus’s father,” Rowena confirms. Dean tries not to listen, but there’s not much else to do than look at Cas, ears burning red with the knowledge that they are hearing words not meant for them.

     “And he just left you there? Alone – while you were giving birth to his son?” Sam sounds horrified. “I’m so sorry, we never should have asked—”

     “—Sam, I volunteered—”

     “—But after such a traumatic—”

     “—It’s in the past,” Rowena says sharply. She pauses a moment, then starts again more softly. “Truth be told, I was happy to do it. At least I can feel like it’s _for_ something. For saving Castiel. Besides, the worst part of it was never the pain, it was being—” She cuts off, seemingly thinking better of whatever she was going to say. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to. And having you, all of you here makes it . . . not entirely horrible.” Dean glances at Cas, wondering if this is the end of the conversation. “Are you two going to stand out there all night?” Rowena asks, suddenly louder. Dean jumps, face instantly going red. He and Cas both ease into the room apologetically, heads dipped in shame. “Och, stop with those faces. You didn’t hear anything I didn’t want you to hear. If you had, you wouldn’t have any ears by now.”

     Dean chuckles and hands her the cup of tea. Cas, on the other hand, looks dopey and sincere, and entirely serious about it. “Thank you,” he says, each of the two words weighted.

     “Please,” Rowena scoffs with an eye roll. “As _if_ I’d be doing this without the Grimoire hanging in the balance.”

     Once again, Dean marvels at the fact that the Winchester family has somehow come to include two scared hunter boys who—by some miracle—survived well into adulthood, a pregnant fallen angel in a male vessel, and a sarcastic witch who had previously tried many times to kill the rest of them.


	19. Chapter 19

     “Hey, you sure you’re up for this?” Dean asks, fully aware it’s the third time he’s asked, but needing to be sure. “You’ve had a rough go, lately.”

     “It’s been nearly three weeks, Winchester,” Rowena says impatiently. “Besides, you’ll be lost within _five minutes_ without me.”

     Dean can’t help but be cautious. It would be an understatement to say taking on the psychic link and enduring the pain of Kelly’s labor had been hard on Rowena. Weeks later, it was still difficult for Dean to not picture those moments, going back to Rowena letting out screeches that were barely human in that last hour of labor. Dean, Sam, and Cas had all offered hands to hold and reassuring touches, but at the end of the day, there was nothing they could do on their end. Whatever Kelly was feeling was what Rowena would feel, and apparently, it was unbearable. Dean hoped that Kelly had had at least one happy moment of seeing her son before slipping away, because otherwise, he couldn’t imagine a crueler death.

     As for Rowena, she had passed out immediately, and for a moment, they had all feared that she was dead as well. Sam had hastily slid a hand around the back of her neck, catching her as she fell unconscious, and his other hand was quick to follow, searching for a pulse. When he found one, it was faint and slow. She was barely holding on. On Sam’s frantic orders, Dean had rushed down to the library and gathered as much of Rowena’s supplies as he could quickly. By the time he dashed back up the stairs, she was no longer breathing and Sam immediately went to work, first reviving her, then desperately casting spell after spell until she was finally stable, but not before nearly losing her multiple times.

     Rowena had stayed unconscious for a week, and it had hardly been a walk in the park for Sam. He had been by Rowena’s side nearly 24/7, making sure that his patchwork of spells was holding up, and cursing himself for what he considered to be rudimentary work. Dean and Cas had tried to reassure him that he had done the best anyone could have done under that kind of pressure, but he would hear none of it. And during all of this, Sam had also had to monitor Cas’s artificial grace, and on the last day, replenish it. Miraculously, Cas remained healthy. Dean had joked that for once Cas was in better shape than the rest of them combined. It hadn’t gone over well.

     Finally, Rowena had woken up, weak, but recovering. Sam and Cas had looked ready to cry tears of relief, and even Dean had to admit that his eyes had been prickling a bit. Rowena had immediately praised Sam’s spell work, and then went back to sleep, but not before offering a few gentle critiques on what he could have done better.

     The day after that, she had been able to stay awake, and the angels had brought Jack, the nephilim, for them to meet. Dean hadn’t expected Rowena to want anything to do with the newborn, but she seemed to find a certain comfort in holding him, and was noticeably more melancholy when they took him away.

     The next few days she had been weak and sullen, but after that she had quickly improved, eventually returning to full strength and regaining her spirit. Still, after nearly two weeks of constant worrying, it had been hard for Dean to readjust and not treat the witch as if she was made of glass.

     “Are you sure?” Sam asks, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. “Dean is right; we don’t know what’s down there, and you’re still recovering.”

     “I’m not ‘recovering,’ Sam; I’m fully recovered. If you’re going to let the pregnant angel do it, there should be no argument over me,” Rowena scoffs.

     “I’m actually not an angel anymore,” Cas reminds her unnecessarily. “Though I am very much pregnant.” It was true. Cas had grown drastically in the past three weeks and finally looked as far along as he actually was, possibly more. While his belly had once been noticeable, yet only gently rounded, it was now hugely swollen with their unborn child.

     “All the more reason for them not to be bothering _me_. Please, the three of you have no idea what you’re doing.”

     Sam frowns. “Well, you’re right about that. I don’t think any of us know how to properly draw a map.”

     “Yeah, my drawing skills are decent, but doing a full, to-scale map? I’m not exactly an artist, and we’ve all seen the state of Sam’s doodles,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Cas? Anything from your millennia of experiences?”

     “There are no pencils in Heaven,” he deadpans.

     Dean turns to Rowena. “Please tell me you know how to draw a map.”

     “Drawing? Heavens, no,” she says. “But I’ve already cast a spell that will do all the work for us.” She lifts up a strip of leather that seems to be holding together several small bones. “All we need to do is carry this with us, and it will map out every path we take onto the nearest piece of paper.”

     “We still need to walk through every part of the tunnels? Not quite ‘ _all_ the work,’ then,” Dean says smugly.

     “We would need to do that anyway,” Sam says with the slightest bit of annoyance carved into his brow. “That’s the whole reason why Cas is coming with us even though you’re afraid to let him move a muscle until the baby comes.” It’s Dean’s turn to scowl, but Sam continues, unfazed by his brother’s sour expression. “This map is useless if we don’t figure out what tunnels are accessible to Cas. He needs to be physically capable of navigating them if we need a quick escape.”

     “I’m unlikely to be incapable of any route that the rest of you are able to take,” Cas says. “I may not be an angel anymore, but I still have more strength, balance, and endurance than the average human.”

     Dean squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure you do, buddy, but don’t forget you’re carrying a few extra pounds of baby right now.”

     At this point, they’ve reached room 17, and Sam has already pushed in the mismatched brick to open the secret door.

     “So, what are we putting this map on?” Cas asks, ignoring Dean’s last comment.

     “Ah, I’ve already chosen the perfect surface,” Rowena says, lifting two very large, thick pieces of paper that had been leaning against the wall.

     “Isn’t that a bit much?” Dean asks.

     “Not at all. We have no _idea_ how far these tunnels go, and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion they aren’t entirely flat. We need room for stairs, ladders, multiple levels, who knows what? There’s no telling how much there’ll be. And we’ll want at least two copies of course, so nobody gets lost if we have to split up. Don’t worry, I’ve enchanted them so we’re the only ones able to read them.”

     “That’s pretty smart,” Sam says, cheeks turning the slightest bit pink as she catches his eye.

     “Yes,” she replies. “It is.”

 

     The tunnels immediately branch off in three different directions, and the group decides to go from right to left methodically, backtracking when they reach exits and dead ends. It’s mostly dead ends. All the paths in the first fork that they take go nowhere, or loop around, and they are relatively flat and boring. Dean finds himself more mesmerized by the images appearing magically on the paper than by the tunnels themselves. One path with stairs looks promising, but ends up leading nowhere. Dean, Sam, Cas, and Rowena soon return to the entrance to take the middle route.

     The middle of the fork proves more challenging right away, and Cas quickly learns his limitations. On one of the first paths, the floor abruptly drops off into murky water hiding who knows what, with only a few patches of brick to step onto. Dean leads the way, jumping onto the first platform. When he’s sure it’s sturdy, he holds out his hand to Cas. But Cas rolls his eyes, ignoring Dean’s hand, and makes the jump by himself. He sticks it, but his face instantly scrunches in discomfort as the round, heavy weight of his belly bounces from his momentum.

     Cas’s hands go to his knees a moment later, and he lets out a huff of air. “You okay, Cas?” Dean asks. Rowena and Sam are quick to join, crowding onto the tiny platform of bricks protruding from the water’s surface.

     “That was unpleasant,” he grunts, rubbing his bump, which is certainly sore.

     “I told you it might be a bit harder than you think,” Dean chides, though his tone has no bite to it. As they continue on, Cas allows Dean to help him to the other side of the water. Rowena marks it off as a route Cas can complete, but not on his own.

     That path thankfully loops around, so they don’t have to backtrack. But the next path poses an even greater challenge.

     “There’s no way Cas can fit through that,” Dean says. “Hell, I don’t even think Sam and I could.” The route he is referring to is an extremely tall, yet narrow tunnel. “Nope,” he says, failing to even squeeze through sideways. “No can do.”

     “I could,” Rowena says, taking one of the maps from Sam’s hands.

     “Wait, _wait_ ,” Sam says, grabbing her by the wrist. “We don’t know what’s in there.”

     “Nor have we known on any other path we’ve taken so far,” she says drily. “But we need to find out. It may be useful if you need me elsewhere for whatever reason.”

     She’s only gone for about three minutes. Soon, she wiggles back through the tunnel, looking grim.

     “What?” asks Dean, not sure what to expect.

     “It actually _goes_ to the outside,” she says. “First tunnel that’s been the slightest bit useful, and none of you can fit through it.”

     There are a few more like it, some that just fit Rowena, some that also fit Sam and Dean, and some that are too small for any of them. None of them fit Cas, but they’re all dead ends anyways, including the one that starts out fairly wide, but tapers inwards. Cas had gotten about halfway through that one, and it was difficult to convince him to turn around after enduring two minutes of him trying to squeeze his belly around a jut in the wall.

     “You’re gonna get stuck,” Dean admonishes him, and it isn’t until Rowena and Sam return, informing them of a dead end, that Cas agrees to turn around.

     Soon, though, they have a stroke of luck. After twenty minutes of walking down a long, winding path, they see light coming from one branch of a fork in the tunnels.

     It ends at a wall, with a ladder going directly upwards. Dean opens what looks to be a sewer hatch, and they find themselves by the main road.

     “It’s not the most practical,” Dean says, “but at least it’s something.”

     “Unfortunately, it’s not the best place to hide,” Cas says, just poking his head out of the hatch, for fear that someone driving by may notice his pregnancy.

     “It’s not,” Sam replies. “But at least now we know that at least some of these go somewhere.”

     They backtrack to the middle path, disappointed to find that it quickly meets a dead end. The left path however, is a winding maze of twists and turns that seems to go on forever until suddenly, a light appears ahead.

     The tunnel ends in a cylindrical pipe too small to walk through, but easily accessible on hands and knees. “Can you manage this?” Dean asks Cas.

     “Yes,” Cas says. He moves slowly, belly brushing his thighs and causing his back to bow slightly, but ultimately makes it out with ease. Dean emerges right behind him and looks around.

     “We seem to be in some kind of wooded area,” Cas says.

     “This looks close to where the small tunnel came out,” Rowena says. “That could prove useful.”

     “Wait,” Dean says, realization dawning on his face. “I know where we are.” He turns around, taking in his surroundings, recognizing exactly where they’re located. “Follow me.”

     They walk down the side of a gently sloping hill, feet crunching on leaves and branches. Soon, the ground becomes soft, and they end by the edge of a creek.

     “It’s around here somewhere… hah!”

     Tucked into a face of large rocks is a little cave-like structure that Dean had noticed before, but never given much thought to. “I didn’t think this would ever come in handy, but . . .”

     “It’s perfect,” Sam says. “You have a water source and a sturdy shelter where we can even store supplies.”

     “Water filter, food, sleeping bags, first aid kit . . . they can definitely all fit in here,” Dean says with a grin. “And this’ll be real easy to cover up and hide the entrance to.”

     “No sign of any animals living there,” Sam says, re-emerging.

     “I’m confused,” Cas interjects. “Are you suggesting we live here should there be any sign of the Men of Letters?”

     “Oh god, no. Not for any extended amount of time,” Dean assures him. “But if we _really_ need to lay low for a few days, it’ll be a good place to do so. Especially since it’s so well hidden. I come out here all the time, and it took me months to notice this thing.”

     Rowena seems to be on the same wavelength as Cas. “Camping. How glamorous.”

     Dean ignores her. “It’s perfect. Only problem is how long it takes to get out here.”

     “What would you say it was, about a forty minutes’ walk from the entrance?” Sam asks. Rowena nods her head.

     “It’s only about a five minutes’ walk above ground,” Dean muses, “but it’s such an indirect path that we add a bunch of time.”

     “It’s possible another route could lead to the same place,” Rowena suggests. “Especially since we’ve already found two.”

     “Wasn’t there another pipe connecting to the one we came out of?” Cas asks. They all look at each other and wordlessly head back to check.

     Cas is right. There _is_ another pipe connecting to the one they came out of. It’s smaller and not quite circular, but still looks big enough for any of them to navigate.

     “It must come from the left turn at the entrance,” Sam says. Dean eyes the opening to the smaller pipe eagerly, and Sam must have read his mind because he remarks, “We should go back the way we came and do this the proper way, though. If we go backwards, we might miss something.”

     Forty minutes later, they’re back at the entrance to the tunnels. “Everyone doing okay, or do we need a break?” Dean asks. “Rowena? Cas?”

     “We’re _fine_ , Dean,” Rowena says in an exasperated tone. Cas nods his head in agreement. “Let’s go.”

     The last fork proves to be the most challenging yet. Right off the bat, there are stairs, dead ends, narrow passages that Cas can barely fit through, and tunnels that lead back to paths in the first and second forks.

     Their last option finally goes somewhere, but it isn’t a walk in the park. “What the hell?” Dean exclaims as they turn a corner. Right in front of them is a nearly chest-high step. He climbs on top of it. “What the _hell?_ ” The platform dips down to floor level, only for there to be another platform, and another, and another, and another.

     Sam follows. “I guess the Men of Letters didn’t want to make this easy. Cas, do you think you can make this?”

     He frowns, coming right up to the edge and seeing how far it comes up on his belly. “Maybe. With help, I think I could.”

     Dean and Sam each grab an arm and pull him up, Rowena standing behind, just in case he falls. They repeat that action for the next four platforms. Cas is definitely winded by the end, but makes it.

     “Okay, not one for Cas to do on his own,” Dean says, rubbing Cas’s shoulders as he rests, and Rowena marks it as such.

     This path ends up being much shorter than the other one, despite its difficulty. Not long after they turn the corner, they can see the exit.

     The pipe itself, however, is tighter than the other one, and much longer. “I dunno, Cas,” Dean says. “Do you think you can do this?”

     “It doesn’t seem to be too narrow,” Cas says. “I don’t see why not.”

     The pipe does seem to be wide enough to comfortably crawl through, and they start off with ease. Dean carefully watches Cas to make sure he’s doing alright, and he seems to be keeping up well, even with Sam’s pace. About halfway through, however, Dean notices his shoulders brushing the top more and more.

     Sam, at the front, realizes it a second before he does. “It’s getting narrower.”

     “Not all around,” Rowena corrects him from the very back of the line. “The width is the same, but not the height.”

     They crawl for another minute. “I’m at the end,” Sam says. At this point, Cas has fallen back a little, so the rest of them still have a bit to go. “It gets a little smaller in the last few feet, but it’s not too bad. Looks like Cas can make it.”

     As the top of the pipe comes down lower, Dean finds it more comfortable, though not necessary, to just drop into an army crawl. Cas, on the other hand, does not have that luxury, as his swollen belly does not allow for him to lay himself flat to the ground. “You good Cas?” Dean asks, but Cas has already made it to the end, and Sam is helping him into the larger pipe.

     “Definitely not one Cas can do on his own,” Sam says as Dean and Rowena crawl out into the sunlight.

     “No, but it is certainly the quickest option as long as I have one of you with me,” Cas says.

     “That one you can do on your own, but it takes a while,” Dean says, pointing back at the larger pipe. “And there’s always the one to the road if you need to make a quick escape by yourself.”

     “I’d say this is definitely the meeting place, though,” Sam says. “Of course, we’ll still need to practice with different group combinations to make sure any escape goes as smoothly as possible.”

     Cas eyes the pipes with distaste, and Dean laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Not today though,” he says. “I don’t know about all of you, but right now, I never wanna see another tunnel in my life.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

     Over the next week, they acquaint themselves very well with the tunnels. Each member of their party knows the navigable paths by heart, and Cas can make it through all of them as long as he has a partner, though it is toughest with Rowena, due to her petite stature. Still, they make it through successfully enough times for their “training to be complete,” as Dean likes to say. Eventually, they decide to close up the tunnels and let dust accumulate in room 17 as to avoid any suggestion that they even know about the existence of the secret room and the caverns attached to it. In the meantime, they prepare the cave in case of an emergency, disguising it with a tarp covered in leaves and stocking up on supplies.

     The next month passes by without much incident. Cas’s artificial grace seems to be working beautifully, and he continues to grow. Maybe it’s due to the strange appearance of a pregnant man, but to Dean, Cas looks almost ready to give birth. The moment he points this out to Rowena, she gloats about the success of her and Sam’s spell.

     “You’re doing well, Cas,” Rowena says. “You’ve surpassed human markers, and the bairn is growing quite nicely.”

     “Maybe too nicely,” he grumbles in return, as he is prone to do these days. He looks down, rubbing his swollen abdomen. “It’s unpleasant.”

     Rowena’s smugness quickly dissolves into concern. “Are you in any pain?”

     “Not much,” he replies. “It’s just uncomfortable. She’s growing very fast, and I feel like I can’t keep up. And my skin feels . . . strange. It’s odd readjusting to human sensations while another being is growing inside me.”

     “Hmmm . . . well, I know just the thing to help, but I don’t have one of the ingredients. I’ll have to go out to get it.”

     “Wait, is it that serious?” Dean asks, concerned that Rowena would make a trip just to ease Cas’s discomfort. He runs a hand through Cas’s hair, and Cas leans into his touch, humming happily.

     “Not at all,” she says. “A simple salve should do the trick.” She looks at Dean, and must understand what his surprised expression implies, because she follows up with, “It’s not like I’m going out _only_ for that. I’ve other things to do, too, I’ll have you know.”

     Still, when she goes a few minutes later, Dean catches her leaving Cas with a pat on the cheek, and a gentle smile.

 

     An hour later, Dean and Cas are sitting peacefully in their room, watching Netflix, and in Cas’s case, sipping tea.

     Sam bursts in, and as soon as Dean sees the look on his face, he closes the laptop. “What?”

     “Get Rowena on the phone. Now, Dean!”

     “Okay, okay,” he says, selecting her contact and putting it on speaker. “Why—?”

     Sam holds up his own phone, showing them the screen. The most recent text from Rowena is one word: _help_.

     “Shit,” Dean says. “C’mon, Rowena pick up.” Sam kneels next to the bed, leaning in towards the phone.

     They wait on bated breath as it rings. And rings. And rings.

     Finally, it stops. There’s crackling on the line.

     “Dean?” a wavering voice asks. Dean can hear the clacking of Rowena’s boots, and the jostling of the phone against her cheek. She’s running.

     “Sam and Cas, too. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he demands.

     “No,” she cries. “It’s the bloody Men of Letters. I don’t know how they found me but, oh god, it’s all gone. He’s burned all of it to the—”

     “Rowena?” Sam cuts in. “Where are you? Who exactly is after you?”

     “It’s him. I—ah!” She screeches and there’s a sharp clatter of the phone hitting the ground. Sam’s face goes white.

     “Rowena!” Sam grabs the phone as if he could somehow bring Rowena’s own phone back to her hand. Cas scoots closer to Dean, wrapping himself around his arm. Dean is frozen, listening intently to the struggle in the background. It’s extremely muffled, but he thinks he can hear Rowena chanting something as well.

     And then, a huge explosion.

     “No!” Sam yells. Cas buries his face in Dean’s shoulder.

     But a moment latter, there’s scuffling. And scraping. Like the phone is being dragged across the ground.

     “Sam,” she sobs into the speaker. Sam lets out a ragged breath. Of relief? Horror? Possibly both. “Please. He’s going to—no. No, don’t—!”

     The line goes dead. Dean looks at the screen.

     Call disconnected.

     Sam drops the phone with a far-away look in his eyes. He rests his head in his trembling hands.

     Cas and Dean look at one another. Cas has tears brimming over in his eyes. Sighing, Dean pulls Cas in with a gentle hand to the back of his head, and puts their foreheads together. He takes a moment to compose himself, swallows, and says, “Okay. What do we know?”

     “She said the Men of Letters found her,” Cas says. He sniffles, and continues, “But it sounded like she was fighting only one person.”

     “She said ‘he’ was after her,” Dean observes.

     “Ketch,” Sam says darkly, voice muffled by his palms. He draws his hands down his face, and pushes himself to a standing position. His eyes are dry, though Dean suspects that that’s only because he is _past_ the point of crying. “Ketch has her.”

     Hot anger rises in Dean’s chest as he connects the dots. “I can’t believe it.” He grabs the phone, furiously jabbing at the screen until the phone starts ringing.

     “Oh, Dean. It’s been a while. How have you—?”

     “What did you do?”

     There’s a pause. “What? What do you mean?” Mary asks.

     “Mom, he took her.”

     “Who?”

     “Your buddy, _Ketch_. He has Rowena.”

     “H-how? When did this happen?” she sputters.

     “As if you don’t know! You betrayed us!” Dean barks.

     “Dean, I swear. I don’t know a thing about this.”

     “You don’t know. Well, you wanna know what _I_ know? You were against Rowena from the start. You wanted nothing to do with it, even if that meant Cas was gonna _die_. Oh, you were all high and mighty . . . you hated the idea of us having _anything_ to do with a witch. So now that you’ve got some powerful organization backing you up, you send them in to do your dirty work. Why? So you can swoop in and ‘save us from ourselves?’ Well, it’s pretty fucked up.”

     “Dean,” Mary insists. “It’s not what you think—”

     “You know what, Mary? I’m pretty sure it is.” He slams a finger onto the screen to end the call, and throws the phone on the bed. He fights the urge to scream into his hands.

     After a few breaths, Cas chides him, “That wasn’t very helpful, Dean.”

     “Yeah?” he asks, turning to face Cas. “Well, it _helped_ me to feel better. Right, Sam?”

     Sam’s eyes are fixed on the far wall. He ignores Dean’s question. “We need to get her back.” Some of Dean’s anger dissipates, and he lets his shoulders fall.

     “I think we can all agree on that,” Cas says gently.

 

     “Some apprentice I am,” Sam mumbles later, watching the burning edges of a map smoke out. “This is the sixth time I’ve tried this tracking spell. I can’t get it any more specific than this.”

     Dean peers over at the map, and claps Sam on the shoulder. “You narrowed it down to a town, Sam. That’s hardly a failure.”

     “You can’t blame yourself, Sam,” Cas says, loading angel blades into a nearly full duffel. “He’s most likely using some kind of cloaking spell.”

     “It’s not good enough,” Sam huffs. “Rowena could be dead by now. We don’t have time to search a whole town.”

     “Yeah, but we’re wasting time just sitting here,” Dean points out, pulling on his jacket. “Look, we’ll think of something in the car. But right now, we need to get on the road, heading in the right direction.” Cas stands as if to follow, and Dean stops him with a gentle touch to his chest. “Not you.”

     “Dean,” Cas protests.

     “Please man,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Don’t fight me on this. Not today,” he says pointedly, sliding his hand down to Cas’s protruding belly.

     Cas backs down, nodding solemnly before looking back and forth between the two brothers. “Alright. But please, be careful. Both of you.” His eyes lock on Dean. “I need you to come back.”

     “I know,” Dean says, chest aching at the thought of leaving Cas alone. “Love you.” He kisses the top of Cas’s head. “I promise we’ll be back,” he says, reaching for the duffel.

     There’s a knock at the door.

     “Who the hell—?” Dean starts, but cuts himself off as he considers the circumstances. “Could be Ketch,” he hisses to Sam, and waves Cas out of sight. He and Sam creep up to the door, guns drawn. Dean unlocks the door, finger ready on the trigger.

     It’s Mary.

     Dean lets out an exasperated huff of air and lowers the gun, but it stays cocked. “What the hell are you doing here?”

     “What do you think?” she asks him, dropping her own bag at the door. She pushes past him without any concern for the gun pointed towards her. “I’m here to help.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing for me! 
> 
> http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “You’re here . . . to _help_?” Dean asks incredulously. He uncocks his gun, but his body remains in defensive mode.

    “I never wanted this to happen, Dean,” Mary replies sternly. Cas hesitantly comes out from hiding, likely upon realizing it’s not Ketch. Dean signals for him to not come any closer, just in case Mary turns on them.

    “Oh yeah? Well too little, too late,” he spits back.

    “Dean,” Sam reprimands, stepping between them. He pauses, a dark look crossing his features. “No. You know what? He’s _right_ . This is your fault. _You_ let this happen.”

     “Boys, please. Just hear me out.”

     “On what?” Sam huffs. “What could you possibly have to say for yourself?”

     “More importantly, why the hell should we believe you?”

     Mary takes a breath and rolls her shoulders back. “Look,” she says, letting her eyes flutter close. “Maybe I made a mistake about Rowena. I wasn’t comfortable with you putting your hands in the life of a witch, especially one I had no reason to trust. But you have to believe, if I wanted her dead, I would have done it by now!”

     “Oh, _that’s_ real reassuring,” Dean quips.

     “You boys are grown up now. It’s been hard to accept that. You can make your own decisions for yourself, and I have to respect those choices, but it’s not easy for me. Look, I didn’t want you to work with her. But killing her? I’m a hunter, not a murderer.” She shakes her head. “You boys have to believe me when I say I wouldn’t _kill_ a person who’s helping a loved one out.” She glances over to Cas. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been willing to save her before now. But . . . Cas looks good.” She turns back to them. “You _all_ look good. Well rested. And it’s about time.” She sighs. “Maybe I judged too soon, made assumptions about her character that I shouldn’t have. I don’t know. But I _do_ know that I’m not about to let her die after she saved part of my family. Understand?”

    “Yeah,” Sam says with a sigh, rubbing his face. Dean deflates, suddenly feeling bad for the way he spoke to her on the phone. “But what about Ketch? You’re literally working with him. All of them.”

    “I didn’t know,” she says. “If I had, do you think I’d still be there? I know you boys and I have a different outlook, but I don’t believe in killing indiscriminately. If I had seen anything like this before now, I would have been _out_.”

    “You really want to help?” Dean asks unsurely.

    “Yes,” Mary breathes. “Please. I know I can’t make it up to you, but at least let me try to fix what I can.”

    Dean looks to Sam. Sam may be the one to keep his temper better, but Dean also knows that underneath the cool façade, he’s the one who is more emotionally distraught by the situation at hand. He’s the one who should make the decision.

    His brow creases with the consideration, and he sighs. “I’d like to tell you ‘no,’ but we desperately need the help.” He walks back to the table, defeated, and Dean, Cas, and Mary follow.

    “This is how specific I can narrow the location down. We have no idea where he may be keeping her,” he says, gesturing towards all the scraps of map on the table.

    “Wait,” Mary says. “This is . . . hold on.” She grabs one of the burnt papers and studies it. “There,” she says, pointing at the corner of two roads. “There’s an old abandoned Men of Letters station there, from before the American branch was wiped out.” Her brow furrows. “We stopped there once. I didn’t think anything of it then, but he had me wait outside. He said he was just looking for a weapon, but maybe . . .” She looks to the three of them. “Do you think he’s created his own base there? A private one that the other Men of Letters don’t know about?”

    “It’s possible,” Dean says.

    “It’s the best lead we’ve got,” Sam replies, picking up the duffel. “Let’s go.”

    They hurry towards the door. Dean is halfway there before he feels the need to turn around. Cas is still sitting at the table, looking nervous and lost. “Hey,” Dean says softly, rushing to his side. “I’ll be okay, promise.” Cas cracks a half-smile, but it lacks sincerity. “I have too much to lose by not coming back.”

    “I know,” Cas says quietly. “Just please, be safe.”

 

    “So what’s the plan?” Dean asks as they speed down the highway. Mary is sitting in the back, a worried expression planted on her face, and Sam is fiddling anxiously with the knife in his lap.

    “Find Rowena, kill that bastard Ketch,” Sam says darkly. Dean is inclined to agree, but it’s hardly a “plan.”

    “Sam…” Mary starts.

    “I think that part’s implied, Sammy,” Dean says, shooting Mary a look through the rearview mirror. “I was asking more about the ‘how.’”

    “As much as we’d like to just go through the front, guns blazing, it’s not a good idea,” Mary says. “I have no clue what he keeps inside there, and we don’t know the layout of the place.”

    “We could wait for him to come out,” Dean suggests. “As long as he doesn’t take Rowena with him, it should be easy to find her and get out before he comes back.”

    “And if he doesn’t come out right away?” Sam counters. “What happens if we wait too long? He could kill her, Dean. We know he’s capable of it.”

     “We could lure him out,” Dean suggests.

    “How?”

    “We still got that old police siren in the back?”

    “No,” Sam huffs. “Busted, remember? Got broken a few years ago by a pack of vamps.”

    “Damn,” Dean says, searching for another idea of how to get Ketch out of the safe house.

    “I can do it,” Mary says. “I’ll send him a text, tell him that I’m on a case nearby, and it’s gone south.”

    “That would be great if it wouldn’t expose us,” Dean says. “If you do that, Ketch will know that she’s connected to us and that you’re a double agent. He’ll come for all of us, including you. And Cas and the baby. And _Rowena_ , which brings us back to square one,” he says, pulling up to the front of a rundown building. He double checks the address, not quite believing that this dilapidated shack was once a Men of Letters hideout. But Mary’s info is proven correct by a small Men of Letters crest carved into the mailbox.

    “Do we really have time to worry about that?” Mary asks. “Look, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. At least this buys us a little bit of time, and I can think up a good cover before he starts asking questions.”

    Dean grits his teeth. It’s not a good plan. He can poke far too many holes in it to be comfortable, and that’s only after two minutes of thinking about it, tops. On the other hand, it’s the best plan they have on short notice, and Sam is right. Ketch is a monster, and if they don’t act fast, Rowena could be dead soon. “Sam?” he asks, allowing it to be his brother’s call.

    Sam turns to Mary, and gives the slightest nod. “Let’s go.”

    Mary composes a believable text about a violent ghost that doesn’t seem to be connected to its remains _or_ the family heirloom she thought it might be clinging to. It sounds plausible enough, both from the standpoint of a believable problem, and the fact that a highly competent hunter like Mary might still need help with it. Several minutes pass, however, and Dean begins to think that the plan has failed.

    He starts to ask, “Do we have a plan B?” but Mary cuts him off.

    “Wait.” She watches her phone. “He’s typing.” After a moment, she breathes a sigh of relief. “He took the bait. It’s a go.”

    Sure enough, through the trees that the Impala is hidden behind, Dean can see Ketch exit the front door of the safe house, lock the door, and walk to his motorcycle, helmet in hand. He gets on the bike, puts on the helmet, and with an unnecessary roar of the motor, drives off.

    “Okay, let’s do this,” Dean says once Ketch has turned the corner down the road, and ridden out of sight. He swings his legs out the door, and goes to unlock the trunk. “Guns? Or should we bring blades in case he has some freaky stuff hidden in there?”

    “I doubt even Ketch would rely on supernatural creatures as guard dogs, no matter how unorthodox his methods,” Mary reasons. “He _is_ still a Men of Letters.”

    “Still, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” Sam says, tossing her an angel blade.

    She catches it with ease. “I can’t argue with that.”

    They rush up to the front door, checking over their shoulders to make sure nobody is following. Dean begins to pick the lock.

    He lets out an irritated grunt not a moment later. “Damn, this is a hard one. Sam, you give it a go,” he says, handing the tools to his brother.

    “Hold on,” Sam says. “Mom, do you still have your old key to the Bunker? We never got you the new keys after we changed the locks.”

    “Yeah . . . why?” she asks, but hands it over anyways.

    “Because,” Sam says, taking her key and jiggling it in the lock, “lots of the old Men of Letters hideouts used the same . . . aha!” The handle turns. “Guess we should have held on to those,” Sam says to Dean.

    “They’re in a box somewhere,” Dean says with a shrug. “Guess we’ll have to keep our old ones with us from now on. Who knew they’d come in handy?”

    If Dean didn’t know better, his initial assumption as they step inside would be that this house was completely abandoned. The wallpaper is peeling and the floorboards are warped like paper that has been left by an open window during a storm. However, upon closer examination, there are clear paths where the dust has been cleared by footsteps, and various journals and books free from the light gray that seems to coat almost every surface. Dean flicks a switch, but the lights stay off, leaving just the natural light and their flashlights to guide their way.

    “I say we stick together since we know he’ll be gone for a while,” Dean says. “Just in case he has this place ‘Home Alone-d’ or something.”

    “Where should we start?” Mary asks. “It looks like a big place, and I’m not sure it’s entirely structurally sound.”

    “Rowena?” Sam calls. Aside from his voice echoing around the old house, there is no response.

    “I say we follow that,” Dean says, pointing towards the clearest path through the house, where the dust has yet to resettle. “Looks like he’s been this way a lot.”

    The path leads them down a narrow hall, and into a study. The desk is dusty, as well as all the books that line the wall. They follow through the far doorway, finding themselves in some kind of armory. Very few of the weapons seem to have been touched in the past decade.

    “Dead end,” Sam breathes. “What do we do now?”

    “Wait,” Mary says, pointing to a light sconce.

    “What?” Dean asks, looking for anything out of the ordinary. “It’s just a—oh.” The sconce on the other side of the room is coated in dust, but this one looks freshly polished. “Nice catch, Mom.” He walks over, and grips the cold metal. “Here goes nothing.” He pulls down.

     Immediately, the bookcase begins to rotate, revealing a treacherous set of stairs down into a cellar. “That looks so wrong,” Dean says, noticing a rat dropping on the steps, and trying not to think about what else might be living down there. “Which means it’s gotta be the right direction.” He shakes out the tension in his shoulders, flicks on his flashlight, and leads the way.

    The stairs end almost immediately at a wall, forcing them to turn the corner. Dean stifles a gasp. This is a torture dungeon, one that definitely rivals the one they have in their own Men of Letters base, the bunker that is supposed to be _the_ top notch, state of the art facility of its time. Ketch has definitely made some enhancements of his own. And right in the middle of it is Rowena, cuffed to a chair, gagged, and imprisoned by a witch collar.

    “Rowena!” Sam runs to her side and immediately takes the spiked collar off. He feels for a pulse, but her eyes thankfully flutter open before he can even get his fingers to the right spot on her neck. He wordlessly hands the collar to Dean, who crosses the room to put it on the table.

    “Sam.” She’s completely muffled by the fabric tied around her face, but it isn’t hard to understand what she means.

    Dean sucks in a breath. It’s only been a few hours, but she’s in rough shape. Her blue dress is mostly black, both from blood and soot. She has scrapes all over her hands and arms, bruises on every part of her body, and slashes in the fabric across her torso, leaking even more blood. Some of her fingers are dark and swollen, most likely broken, and one of her eyes is sealed shut, dried blood filled in the creases of her lids and crumbling in the corner of her eye. The other eye is unharmed, but red and puffy from the tears that continue to pour as Sam gently removes her restraints.

    “Sam,” she sobs, voice now clear as the gag is removed.

    “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, undoing the cuffs. “I shouldn’t have let you go out alone. I should’ve been better at finding—” He stops, composing himself. “We’re getting you out of here,” he says, voice stronger with resolve. “Can you walk?”

    She shakes her head, grabbing her tattered skirt with her less beat up hand and pulling it aside. Her feet are at slightly awkward angles, and her ankles are bruised and swollen. Also broken.

    “Jesus,” Dean breathes, horrified.

    “It’s okay,” Sam says, voice even. Careful. “I can carry you out.”

    “Wait,” she croaks, turning slightly towards Dean’s direction. “On the table. I need that.”

    “This?” Dean asks incredulously, hand still on the collar.

    “No,” Sam murmurs with a black look, crossing over to the table and picking up a jar. There is a small white object floating inside.

    “That sick bastard,” Mary hisses, realizing it a second before Dean. He looks at the jar, at Rowena, and back to the jar, noting the shape of the object from behind Sam’s fingers. He looks once more back to Rowena, fixating on her bloody eye.

    Or eye socket.

    He swallows back against the nausea rising in his throat. “He took your eye?”

    “I did.” Dean swivels his head around. Ketch stands at the bottom of the stairs. “And now you’re trying to take my witch. Don’t even try it,” he snaps, whipping out his gun as Sam steps forward. “The weapons. Drop them.”

    They set their own firearms slowly on the ground, followed by their angel blades. Dean has a gun tucked into the back of his jeans that he knows Ketch hasn’t spotted, but it’s almost certain that Ketch could kill him before he could draw it. He’ll need a distraction.

    “Mary,” Ketch tuts. “I’m disappointed.”

    “How did you know?” she asks sharply, all business.

    “GPS in your phone,” he says. “What, you didn’t really think a new recruit would be given free reign without the slightest bit of oversight?” She gives him an angry look, but says nothing. “Well, it’s unfortunate that I have to do this, but I’m sure one of you will crack. This one on the other hand . . .”

    In the blink of an eye, Ketch has raised his gun and pointed it to Rowena. “No!” Sam shouts.

    Before Dean can even think to draw his own gun, Ketch pulls the trigger.


	22. Chapter 22

    The next few seconds seem to pass in slow motion, but Dean feels as if he’s stuck in molasses. He can’t make it on time to grab Rowena, and neither can Sam. The witch herself is also helpless, unable to move with her broken ankles, and likely too weak in her injured state to cast a spell against the bullet speeding towards her chest.

    Out of nowhere, a figure appears next to the witch. In the next moment, it jumps in front of Rowena. In the moment after that, Dean realizes it’s Mary.

    And that there’s nothing he can do about it.

    The jump is timed horrifically perfectly. The bullet never makes contact with Rowena, instead tearing through the flesh of Mary’s abdomen in a bloody streak.

    And suddenly, time is moving quickly again. Too quickly.

    “Mom!” Dean cries, but Sam takes advantage of the confusion to get the advantage, scooping his blade from the ground and holding it to Ketch’s throat. Dean tears his gaze away from Mary, lying still on the ground, and runs to help. He wrestles Ketch’s gun away from him, but Ketch strikes back, elbowing Sam in the stomach, and throwing Dean against the cement wall. His head hits against it hard, and he falls to the ground, black flashing in the corners of his vision.

   He watches as Sam stumbles back, fighting alone. He tries to rise to his feet, but he’s too stunned by the impact, room spinning around him. Letting out a frustrated growl, he fights his own eyes as they close.

   He can hear the scuffling of feet, and Sam’s blade clanging as it hits the ground. His eyes reluctantly open.

   He tries to rise once more, reaching for his gun, but immediately falls, hand slipping. Ketch has Sam by the neck, and his little brother gasps for air.

   Rowena lets out a ragged shout, hand outstretched, and Ketch goes down in a flash of light.

   “Is he . . .?” Dean starts.

   “No,” Rowena slurs, head lolling to the side, as Dean finally successfully stands. “Just stunned.”

   “Dean, shoot him!” Sam says. But Dean blinks, backing away.

   “No. Just—just a minute. We need to . . .” He turns, allowing himself to take in the damage of the last thirty seconds. “Mom?” he whispers, dropping to her side.

    “Let me,” Rowena says, reaching out a shaking hand. The spell has left her even weaker than before.

    Dean guides Mary’s hand into Rowena’s. The witch closes her eye, letting out a shuddering breath.

    “Is there any chance she’ll pull through?” Dean asks.

    “And what about you?” Sam counters. “Rowena, that spell . . . was it too much for you?”

    “I can’t help her,” she croaks.

    “So she’s—?”

    “She’ll be fine. But I can’t do anything right now.” She holds up her hands. They shake, not even the slightest bit stable. “Sam, you know the charms to keep her in stasis?”

    “Yeah, but—those won’t last forever. Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

    “They don’t need to last forever. We’re just buying some time.”

    Sam shakes his head, lips pursed. “Okay.” He lays his hands on Mary, one on her head, one above her heart. “ _Perduro._ ” A faint shimmer of light passes over their mother’s body, and her breathing slows and deepens. The blood seeping from her wound stops, the red no longer spreading across her shirt.

    “Very good,” Rowena says, collapsing back in the chair, eyes closed.

    Sam rises, putting a hand through her red curls. He looks up at Dean. “We need to get her back to the Bunker soon. She’s in bad shape.” Rowena’s brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue.

    “Yeah, but first we have to deal with . . .” Dean looks over at Ketch, and Sam’s gaze follows.

    “No problem,” Sam says, cocking his gun. “I’d be glad to.”

    “Wait, wait, wait!” Dean says, throwing out a hand to stop him. “Sam, we can’t kill him.”

    “And why the fuck not?” Sam growls. “Look what he did to Rowena. To _Mom_.”

    “Oh, believe me, he has it coming. But we gotta play this smart, Sam. If we kill him now, the Men of Letters will be after us in a matter of hours. There’s gotta be something—”

    “Sam,” Rowena calls, a hand outstretched. She shivers.

    Sam puts away his gun and takes her hand. “Jesus, you’re freezing.” He tenderly slips an arm around her back, the other under her knees, and lifts. He walks back over to Dean, the witch curled up in his arms. “We gotta get out of here.”

    “Sam,” she says once more, and gives him a stern look. “You’re going to have to heal him when I’m done.”

    “What? What do you—?”

    Before either of them can stop her, she waves her hand over Ketch. “ _Oblivascor! Dedisco! Dormeo!_ ” Dean can practically see the remainder of her strength flow out through her fingertips. She goes limp in Sam’s arms.

    “Rowena!” Sam jostles her slightly, but she is out cold. “Dean,” he says, moving her head forward. Dean takes the cue, and feels for a pulse.

    “She’s still kicking,” he says after a moment, feeling her heartbeat flutter weakly under her skin. “Why the hell did she do that?”

     “Because she knows I’m not ready yet. I can’t cast a memory spell that strong.” He glares down at her. “But it was still stupid,” he scolds, as if she could hear.

     “Well, they both need care. And fast. Can you do that healing spell on Ketch she was talking about?”

     “Yeah,” Sam says. “It’s just a bloody nose and bruises. Not that I want to.”

    “Well, hopefully he won’t remember this at all. He’s gonna wonder what happened when he wakes up, though.” He holds his arms out. “Here.” Sam passes Rowena into his arms, and Dean is careful to not further injure her legs as he repositions her. He knows it’ll go faster this way; Sam is stronger so it makes sense that Dean carry the smaller of the two women.

    “No, the spell she cast was a good one. It should affect his short-term memory for a while when he wakes up.” He walks over to Ketch and chants something under his breath. Dean can hear the reluctance in his tone, even if he can’t make out the words, but Ketch’s injuries heal, and the blood disappears from his nose. “Okay, let’s go,” Sam says, turning his back.

    “Wait. We need to wipe Mom’s text from his phone.”

    Sam picks it up. “Locked.”

    “See if he has a fingerprint.”

     Sam leans down and presses Ketch’s thumb to the home button. “I’m in.” He swipes through the texts, deleting them before putting Ketch’s phone back at his side. “We’re good.”

     “Before you pick up Mom, give me the—the jar,” Dean says, unable to bring himself to say “the eye.”

    “Yeah.” Sam’s nose curls into a snarl as he picks it up and hands it to Dean.

    The eye bobs in murky water, tinted pink by blood and who knows what else. Dean has to tear his gaze away, ashamed of himself for staring in his state of horrified fixation. “Fucking disgusting.”

    “The eye? Or that he did that to her?”

    “Both.”

     They carry Mary and Rowena out to the car, gently propping them up in the backseat. “I’m gonna sit between them in the back,” Sam says. “Just in case . . .  you know.”

    “Yeah,” Dean replies, trying to hide his worry from his expression. “Good plan.”

    It’s a thirty minute drive back, and Dean knows that anything could happen in that amount of time, especially with both women in such an unstable condition. He tries to drive as quickly as possible. Time is of the essence.

    With ten minutes to go, Dean can hear a series of sharp coughs from the backseat. “Please, not again,” he can hear Sam mumble. He glances at the rearview mirror and sees Rowena holding her ribs painfully as she expels air from her lungs.

     Thankfully, the coughing slows.

    “Hey,” Sam says softly, “you’re awake.”

    “You okay?” Dean asks. “You gave us a pretty big scare back there.”

    “No,” she croaks, but there’s a faint smile tugging at her lips. In a moment, it fades. “My eye,” she says, suddenly panicked as she touches her brow bone above the empty socket. “Did you—?”

     “I have it,” Sam reassures her quickly. “We’ll get you back to one piece. For now, just rest, okay? We’re almost home.”

      Rowena drifts back to unconsciousness in the next few minutes. They’re almost back at the bunker when Sam says, “Mom’s losing blood again. We need to be ready to move the _second_ we get back.”

    “Can’t you fix it?” Dean asks, worried that Mary’s already poor condition could be getting worse. “I mean, the spell you used earlier—”

    “—Only works once,” Sam says. “I can’t do anything else without actual supplies, other than put pressure on, which I’m already doing.” Dean glances back. Sam’s flannel is balled up against Mary’s midsection, stained red with blood.

    Dean shakes his head. “Okay. I guess we’ll have to be ready to move.”

    “Cas!” Dean yells as he carries Rowena into the bunker. “Code red, man! I need you!”

    “Dean?” Cas rushes into the room, one hand cradling his belly so he can move faster. His eyes widen at the sight of Rowena. “Did Ketch . . .?”

    “Did all of this. Yeah. Cas, there’s no time, I need you to clear a table. Mom’s got it even worse.”

    “Worse?” he exclaims, expertly scooping all the items off the table. He turns as Sam runs in with Mary, and his eyes widen in horror and astonishment. “How did that happen?”

    “Took a bullet for this one,” Dean says, gesturing with his head towards Rowena as he puts her into the most comfortable chair he can find at the moment. “Pretty much saved all our asses by proxy, ‘cause I don’t think we’d have gotten out of there without Rowena’s spells.” He rushes back to the table to help Sam with their mother.

    “I have to grab some stuff from the other room,” Sam says urgently, guiding Dean’s hands to where his shirt is balled over Mary’s stomach. “Keep pressure.”

    “C’mon, Mom. Hang in there,” Dean whispers, brushing her hair aside with his free hand. Her skin is pale and clammy, and Dean finds himself fearful of possibly having to face her death again. He laughs humorlessly. “She just had to be the hero, didn’t she?”

    Cas’s palm slides up his shoulder, resting there comfortingly. “She’s a strong woman, Dean. If anyone can survive this, it’s her.”

    Sam runs back into the room with a bowl full of a blue-ish powder. “Okay, here we go.” He closes his eyes, and sprinkles the powder over her face, whispering something under his breath.

    Dean waits, but notices no change, even after a few moments. “Is she supposed to be healing, or . . .?”

   “No,” Sam says, putting the bowl aside. “It’s just a more powerful spell to keep her in a state of stasis. With an injury like this, I can’t heal her on my own. I need Rowena’s help.”

    “So there’s nothing we can do?”

    “Other than wait? No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to profound-boning for beta'ing!
> 
> profound-boning.tumblr.com


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! Things have been busy!
> 
> As always, this chapter was beta'd by profound-boning! Give a round of applause!

    “Hey, hey! Look, she’s waking up.”

    It’s been about two hours since the fight with Ketch, and Rowena’s eyelid is finally beginning to flutter as she wakes. They had cleared the other table and laid her on it so Sam could tend to her wounds as much as possible. But they all know, Sam most of all, that bandages and stitches alone have no chance of healing her completely.

    “Rowena?” Sam asks, leaning over her as her eye slowly blinks open. “Let me help,” he says, gently taking her by the shoulders as she struggles to sit.

    “How do you feel?” Dean asks. He winces as the back of his head stings, lowering the bag of frozen peas that he’s been holding to it for the past thirty minutes.

    “Ugh,” she moans, and he feels that that one word sums up the whole situation nicely. “Like every part of my body has been tossed in a blender.” She sways, even in her seated position. “And why is the bloody room spinning?”

    They fall silent, nobody wanting to point out the effects of losing an eye. Cas is the one to finally speak up, and it’s thankfully in a gentle tone with a lot of careful tactfulness. “The loss of depth perception . . . it can have that effect until one grows used to it.”

    “Of course,” she says, voice small. She raises an absentminded hand to her brow bone. “Thankfully I won’t be getting used to it.”

    “You can heal yourself?” Sam asks.

    “Heavens, no, I couldn’t heal a fly right now. Or harm one for that matter,” she says, shoulders slumping. “But you can.”

    “What spell?”

    “I know just the one.” She moves to stand, and lets out a gasp, falling back as soon as she touches a foot to the ground. “I forgot. The bloody ankles, too. No matter. Get my notes on The Book of the Damned. The black folder with the red corners, you know the one.”

    “Hold up, is that a good idea?” Dean asks although Sam is already halfway out the room. He can’t imagine that The Book of the Damned could have any spells that he’d want his little brother to be using. “And how’d you even  _ get _ any spells from the book?”

    “I snuck a few peeks and wrote down some of the most important ones while they were still fresh in my memory.” She smirks. “You’re welcome; it’s saved your behinds more than a few times. And they’re not  _ all  _ dark magic. It’s a collection of the most advanced spells in the world. For these wounds, I will need that kind of spell.”

    “Got it,” Sam says, re-entering the room.

    “Could you move me to the chair?” Rowena asks, swaying dangerously once more. “I seem to have no strength or sense of balance at all.”

    Dean watches as Sam wraps his arms around her back and under her legs, and carries her as if she were a glass figurine. He knows better than to say anything about it.

    “Which spell?” Sam asks.

    “How is your Sumerian?”

    “Uh.” Sam blinks at the unusual request. “I’d have no hope reading it. My pronunciation is good, but I’d need it spelled out phonetically.”

    “Who  _ can _ read it without agonizing over it for hours? My notes already have it spelled out in the Roman alphabet. Look for  _ mahday eelohtah sahn _ .”

    Sam flips through, and locates the page. “I could read it,” Cas mumbles to Dean, and Dean silently pulls him close with a smile.

    “Got it. I think we have all the right ingredients, right?”

    “For that one? Yes, we should.”

    “Okay,” Sam says, practically running out of the room with the page clutched tight in his hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

    “Are you really going to be okay?” Dean asks, putting a hand on Rowena’s shoulder. He knows it’s insensitive to ask, but he can’t help it; Rowena looks so weak in comparison to her usual self, and her injuries appear even more gruesome in the stark lighting of the Bunker.

    “Your brother is very skilled. I have no doubt in his ability to complete the spell. My injuries  _ are  _ severe, but they’re fresh as well. It shouldn’t be too difficult to piece everything back together.” She gives him a slight smirk. “We both know I’ve come back from worse.”

    Dean squeezes her shoulder, unable to stop a small glow of affection from bubbling up in his chest. The feeling soon grows cold, however, as he glances up and catches sight of Mary, still lying stationary on the further table. “And what about my mom? After Sam fixes you up, will you be able to save her?”

    “My power has limits,” Rowena says. “Right now, I’m drained of nearly all my magic. The spells I had to cast today, while injured? They took almost everything out of me.”

    A pang of fear and regret stings in his chest. “So there’s no hope?”

    “I didn’t say that,” she corrects quickly. “The good news is that Sam’s stasis spells he put on her are very strong. They should hold up for a few days, which is about how long it’ll take me to regain enough strength to heal her.”

    Dean nods silently.

    “Do you trust that I will do everything I can?” She looks back and forth between Dean and Cas. “Your mother leapt in front of a bullet for me. I may be many things, but I  _ don’t _ take something like that lightly.”

    “We know,” Cas says. “We’re just worried.”

    “Yeah,” Dean says. “Mom’s a fighter, but I’ll feel a lot better once she’s pulled through.”

    “Okay, here we go,” Sam says, stepping back into the room. He furiously mixes a grayish-green lump of ingredients in a paste-like substance. “Are we ready?”

    “Don’t be daft. We need the eye,” Rowena scoffs.

    “We do?” Dean asks. “But isn’t the spell supposed to heal you?”

    Rowena can still level him with an icy glare, even with just one eye. “How is it supposed to heal a part of my body that isn’t even there?”

    Dean turns her words over in his mind for a moment. “Touché.” He grabs the jar, and unscrews the lid. Distracted and unable to resist the impulsive reaction, he takes a whiff. The most foul scent possible rushes up into his nostrils, and he pulls away, face twisting in disgust.

    Sam gives him a look that very clearly states, “dude, why the hell would  _ smell _ it?” Dean shakes his head shamefully, blinking back tears, and hands Sam the open jar.

    A deep crease forms in Rowena’s brow as she looks at the jar. “I can’t. Sam, I’m sorry but—”

    “I can do it,” Sam says, and she looks mortified at the suggestion. “Really, it’s okay. Just, uh . . . Dean. First aid kit?”

    “Right here,” Dean says, picking it off the chair they had hastily laid it on as they tended to Mary.

    Sam pulls a pair of gloves on, and reaches down into the jar, scooping up the eye after a few tries. It takes all of Dean’s willpower to not look away as the soft, spherical object slips into Sam’s palm.

    “There’s no way this is going to feel good,” Sam warns, coming to stand facing Rowena.

    “I know,” she responds. “Just do it quickly.”

    This time, Dean can’t help but gag and look away. He turns to Cas, who seems bothered by Rowena’s suffering but not by the gross medical happenings that he watches without blinking.

    The deed has been done by time Dean turns back around. Sam looks a little pale but otherwise fine, and Rowena’s eye is back where it belongs. Dean tries not to look too closely.

    Sam spreads the paste thick over Rowena’s eyelid first, and then her ankles. He also lays it on the worst of her cuts in a thinner layer. He then takes off the gloves and picks up the paper, clearing his throat nervously.

    “You can do it, Sam,” Rowena says, “you mixed the ingredients well, and don’t forget, the incantations are your strongest suit.”

    “Okay.” His hand absentmindedly rests in the crook of her neck as he reads through the spell silently. He clears his throat and draws his hand away quickly as he looks up from the page. “Okay, here we go.  _ Mahday, eelohtah sahn. Serloh, eelohtah. _ ” His words are hesitant, but precise. A faint, green glow begins to emanate from where the paste has been laid onto her skin. “ _ Mahday, eelohtah sahn. Serloh, eelohtah, _ ” Sam repeats, slightly louder. He speaks through the incantation a few times as the light grows stronger and stronger, until there is a sudden flash of emerald green.

    Nobody breathes for a moment. Rowena’s eyes are scrunched closed. Dean takes note of her skin; all the treated cuts have healed over with only the slightest tint of pink, and Rowena’s feet are facing the proper direction, ankles thin and pale once more.

    “Did I do it right?” Sam asks desperately. Rowena only shivers in response and pulls her eyes more tightly shut. “Rowena, did I mess up? Is your eye—?”

    “No. I don’t know.” She opens one watery eye, the one that had not been harmed. “I’m too scared to open it.”

    Sam is at a loss and Dean can see it. He steps in and says, “We’re all here for you. Even if it didn’t work, we  _ will _ find a way to fix it.” He’s not sure that it’s a promise he can keep, but he knows it’s what she needs to hear. Sam takes her hands and nods in agreement.

    Rowena takes a deep breath. Her other eye inches open. Immediately, a sob comes out and tears spill over her lids.

    Dean’s heart drops at the same time as Sam’s face falls. “I’m so sorry,” Sam says, “I should’ve—”

    But the sob turns into a laugh. “It worked!” she exclaims through tears. “It worked.” She’s muffled by Sam’s chest as she propels herself into his arms. “Thank you.” Her voice drops to a murmur. “Taking you as a student was the best—” Dean can’t hear the end of her sentence, but whatever it is, it makes Sam smile.

    Dean is met by such a warm rush of relief that he says, “Come here, you,” arms outstretched as she pulls away from Sam. He gives her a quick, but firm hug, and Cas follows suit.

    “But I don’t understand. What did Ketch want?” Cas asks as she pulls back from him. His eyes scrunch in hurt and confusion, freely showing now that he doesn’t have to put on a brave face for Rowena. “Why did he hurt you like that?”

    “He knew I was working for someone, but he didn’t know who, what, or why. Did you know they’ve been keeping an eye on all known witches in America? He saw that I hadn’t been as active recently, and that’s why he went after me.”

    “So he knows about Cas now?” Dean asks, worry worming its way into his stomach.

    “No, of course not!” she exclaims. “He cut me with an iron blade for information, but I wouldn’t give it to him. Eventually I lied, just to get away from the torture, and told him I’d joined a new coven and was going through the initiation rites.” She grits her teeth. “Lying to that . . .  _ monster _ is a mistake that I wouldn’t make again. It didn’t take him long to pick apart my lie, and that’s when he plucked out my eye.”

    It takes Dean a moment to process the fact that Rowena was willing to undergo torture to avoid revealing any information about Cas and the baby. He had been turning it over in his mind ever since they stumbled into that dungeon, but it hadn’t made any sense to him why Ketch, as psychopathic as he was, would torture Rowena so brutally. Now that he knows it was for information that Rowena refused to give, the pieces are coming together, but in some ways it makes even less sense to know that this was a heroic act on her part. Then again, he has to remind himself that the Rowena he knows now is nothing like the Rowena he knew even half a year ago.

    “I should have been with you,” Sam says, shaking his head. “This never would have happened if I—”

    “Sam, you know I never would have let you in the first place. Which . . . was my mistake, of course. It’s about time you start accompanying me to my markets. You’re certainly skilled enough that they should accept you. And the old bats always take a liking to young, handsome men,” she says, with a smirk and the ghost of a wink. After a moment, her smile falls and her eyes grow sad. “My torture is my own fault. And so is the state that your mother is in now.”

    Sam blinks as the gears turn in his head. “But wait,” he says, lighting up, “you’re healed now. You can fix her!” 

    “I’m afraid she can’t,” Cas says, breaking the bad news. “Not yet anyway.” He pauses, allowing Rowena to explain for herself as Sam’s face falls.

    She sighs. “I wish I could. You may have healed me physically, Sam, but my magic was all but drained out of me back at Ketch’s hideout. It’ll take a few days for it to regenerate enough for me to cast the spell. Look,” she instructs him, holding out her hands. They tremble, just as they did in the dungeon. “The very energy of my  _ soul _ is unstable right now. I couldn’t fix a papercut.”

    “Wait . . .” Sam says, turning away. “But I healed you.” Dean doesn’t understand what Sam is getting at, and judging by Rowena and Cas’s blank looks, neither do they. Sam looks to the three of them, and excitedly waves his hands. “Look,  _ I  _ healed you. That means I can heal Mom! Even if you can’t right now.”

    “I’m afraid that’s not possible either. It’s a different spell, Sam. We’re bringing her back from the brink of death. That’s no easy feat.”

    “So you think I can’t handle it?” Sam asks, a slightly bruised expression on his face.

    “No, no, not at all!” she corrects quickly. “But, Sam, are you familiar with what a life-saving spell does? A spell that counteracts  _ fatal _ wounds?” He shakes his head. “It does more than just heal. It requires the caster to literally pour their life-force into the other person. When those two people share a strong bond, such as family or lovers, the spell is incredibly risky. Even for a witch with years of experience. No matter how skilled you are, you’re simply too inclined to give all of yourself to the other person. It’s powerful magic, and once the transfer begins, it’s hard to stop. It can kill both the recipient and the witch who casts the spell.”

    “So what you’re saying is Sam can’t do the spell . . . because he cares too much?” Dean blinks, trying to comprehend. “Damn.”

    “Aye. ‘Tis human nature, sadly.” She turns to Sam. “And you are certainly a compassionate witch. It’ll serve you well for many spells, but would make this one all the more dangerous. For both you  _ and _ your mother.” Sam nods, a disappointed look on his face. “Are you all right?” she asks, ducking down to look into his eyes.

    He nods again, avoiding her gaze. “Fine.” He gathers up Rowena’s notes and tucks them back into their folder. “I’m going to put these away,” he says, barely glancing back at the three of them before walking away.

    “Oh dear, I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong,” Rowena says a moment later, sinking into a chair.

    “You didn’t,” Dean reassures her. “Sam is just . . . you know how he is. He doesn’t like when there are things he can’t fix on his own.” Cas clears his throat and gives Dean a pointed look. Dean shrugs and says, “None of us do. Not the Winchester strong suit.” He gives Cas a good-natured grin. “Same goes for you, Sunshine.” Cas rolls his eyes with a smile, and Dean bites the inside of his lip, thinking for a moment. “What about you?” he asks Rowena. “You look pretty shaken.”

    “Just exhausted,” she responds quickly.

    “It’s no surprise,” Cas says. “You should get some rest,” he tells her, and Dean nods with approval. He holds out an arm and guides her to her feet.

    “Thank you,” she says one more time, quiet and a little bit sad, and leaves.

    “Dean?” Cas asks after a short silence.

    “Can you get me a pillow?” Cas’s brow wrinkles in confusion. Dean turns toward Mary and explains, “We can’t move her. Not with these injuries. But she can’t be comfortable like this.”

    “Of course,” Cas says and kisses Dean on the cheek. He pulls back only a little, staying in the personal bubble of space reserved only for him. “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes full of sincerity. “I know this is hard.”

    Dean nods, dropping his gaze. “It is,” he admits, looking back up. “But she’s going to be okay. I have to believe that.”

    “I know,” Cas says, stepping back. “She will be.” He gives Dean a comforting smile. “I’m going to get that pillow.”

    Dean turns back to the table and pulls up a chair. Mary’s face is pale and still. “You’re a goddamn hero, you know that?” he whispers to her, pulling a bloody strand of hair out of her face. “Part of me wishes you weren’t, but you saved all our asses.” He sighs, lowering his forehead to hers. “I just hope we can do the same for you,” he breathes, even quieter. “I know you don’t trust her, but I think deep down . . . Rowena’s good people. At least, she’s been good to us. Good to Cas, good to me . . . good  _ for _ Sam if you can believe it.” He chuckles. “You gotta wake up, just to see that, Mom. ‘S fuckin’ hilarious the way they are with each other.” The smile fades. “I trust her. I  _ have _ to trust her. If not for you, or for Cas, then for Sam. I don’t want to see what it’ll do to him if I’m wrong.”

    He rests his cheek to the table with a sigh, and studies the face of his dying mother. He waits for Cas, and tries not to feel so alone in the meantime.

  
  



	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing for me!
> 
> http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “They might actually kill each other.” Dean rubs his eyes and pulls Cas close. Sam and Rowena’s raised voices are only muffled by the door, still loud enough to wake Dean and Cas from their afternoon nap.

    It hadn’t started that way. If anything, Sam had been overly careful with Rowena at first, constantly checking up on her and reassuring her. Dean would have found it sweet and amusing, if not for the dire circumstances. He knew Rowena was struggling too. He had heard her waking up screaming in the middle of the night, and he could assume that Sam had gone to see her, hearing her sobs dissolve into gentle murmurs and light laughter before they all drifted back to sleep.

    But Sam’s stubbornness had eventually overpowered his compassion as the stress built up. Rowena wasn’t recovering as quickly as expected, and Mary was still declining. Sam still didn’t understand why _he_ couldn’t be the one to cast the spell, and their previously tender conversations had devolved into bitter arguments in which they both took cheap shots at the other.

    Dean had taken to napping with Cas over the past few days, if for nothing else than to get away from his brother and his brother’s . . . whatever Rowena was to him at this point. As much as he enjoys a good midday cuddle with the man who is carrying his child, Rowena and Sam’s arguments have been adding stress to an already bad situation that Dean doesn’t quite know how to deal with. The only thing that seems logical is curling up against Cas’s solid back, stroking his swollen belly, and reveling in the comfort of holding him close.

    “They won’t kill each other,” Cas grunts, burrowing further under the blankets. “At least I hope not.”

    “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I agree with Rowena. Sam’s kinda being an asshole to her.”

    Cas turns over to look at Dean. “He is . . . but your brother is worried.” His eyes soften. “What about you, Dean? Are you okay?”

    “Well, I’d say I’m holding up better than Sam, considering that _we’re_ not the ones screaming at each other right now,” he chuckles, but the humor is short lived. Cold dread creeps into his chest. “Cas . . . I think today is goodbye,” he says, fighting the tears prickling in his eyes. The feelings he’s been pushing down for days creep up on him against his will. He coughs, trying to subdue the ache building in his throat, but it doesn’t do much. “It’s been three days, and Rowena’s not ready. And Mom . . . she’s fading fast. I don’t think she’s going to last much longer.”

    Cas dips his head. “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

    Dean sighs, running his hand through Cas’s hair and pulling him close to his chest, as close as he can with Cas’s bump between them. “In a way, she’s been gone for days. The spell is just prolonging the inevitable.” He sniffs, not wanting to let the tears out, not before it’s over. “I just wish she could wake up one more time so I could tell her—”

    “—She knows,” Cas interjects. “That’s why she did it. Besides, Dean, it’s too early to give up. There’s still a chance she could pull through.”

    “C’mon, man, you don’t really believe that.”

    “Normally I wouldn’t, but . . .” Cas’s hand slides down over his stomach.

     “Our little bean has another opinion?” Dean asks, a tiny bit of hope flaring up.

    “She’s been quiet,” Cas discloses with full honesty. “But she’s not sad, Dean. I feel like she’s waiting.”

    “Well, I hope she’s right,” Dean says with a heavy sigh. He leans in and kisses Cas, then nestles back down into his pillow, trying not to think of all the things weighing on his heart.

    From downstairs, there’s the sound of something breaking, and a loud, angry shriek from Rowena.

    “Ahhh, shit,” Dean groans. “Okay, buddy, I think I gotta go break that up.”

    “I’ll go with you,” Cas says, though the arch of his brow voices its displeasure quite clearly.

    The argument has grown louder by the time that they near the library. “Agh, Sam!” Rowena shouts. “You’re—you’re all . . . _bum and parsley!_ ” she spits, her Scottish accent coming through so strongly that Dean can barely understand.

    “If I healed you, I can heal _her_!” Sam yells back.

    Dean slows in his stride, and turns to Cas. He suddenly feels like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. “I don’t know, Cas, maybe we shouldn’t. Unless there’s blood . . .”

    “It’s not our business,” Cas finishes, looking just as eager to leave as Dean is. They hover awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to intrude, but worried that the fight will escalate. They eventually inch their way along the wall, thankfully able to get out of Sam and Rowena’s direct sightline before they are noticed.

    “And I’ve told ye a thousand times! They’re not the same thing! You go messing with that, a clean shirt’ll do ye!”

    “And if I don’t? Then _Mom’s_ the one who a—has a—clean—” he huffs, frustrated by his inability to twist the unusual phrase in the other direction. _“She’s_ the one who’s going to die if I don’t do something. I’m doing it, Rowena.”

    “You can’t—”

    “I healed you!” he snarls. “Even though it was for _nothing.”_

    There’s a stunned silence. “Oh hell no,” Dean whispers under his breath, ready to smack some sense into Sam. He loves his little brother dearly, but Sam has just crossed a line that he shouldn’t have even _thought_ about crossing.

    Cas holds him back, however. “Dean.”

    “He can’t talk to her like that,” Dean growls back. “After everything—”

    “They need to work it out themselves.”

    Sam’s voice draws their attention back. “I’m sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it. “I didn’t mean—”

    “Yes you did.” Rowena bites back, offering nothing more. The pain in her eyes says it all.

    “No, I—I’m glad you’re healed. What Ketch did to you was _fucked up_ ,” he says sincerely. His gaze hardens again. “But that’s just it. You’re better now, but you still won’t—”

    “I’m _not_ better, Sam. You may have healed my physical wounds, but there is damage you can’t see! I’m barely standing of my own accord—”

    “It’s always an excuse—”

    “It’s not an _excuse_ ! Dinnae teach yer granny tae suck eggs! Unlike you, I know enough to not go rushing into a spell I’m not prepared to cast. I have the sense to know I need to be stable if I have any chance of helping her at all! _And_ I have the sense to know that I need to be not too close to the patient if I have any—”

    “The ‘ _patient_ ’ is my _mom_. And—”

    “And the more I think about that, the less likely I am to be able to actually help her! I have to stay _detached_ , or—”

    “Oh, like that’s difficult!”

    “What?” she asks dangerously, eyes glinting. Dean desperately wants to leave, but at this point he’s honestly afraid of what they might do to each other.

    “It’s nothing to you. _She’s_ nothing to you!”

    “That’s the point!” Rowena shouts. “It has to stay that way or—”

    “Being _detached_ comes naturally for you. You don’t care! It’s _easy_ for you to not care!”

    Rowena takes a step back, as if she’s been slapped. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” she screeches.

    “It means there is not a single person in the world that you love! You could heal any of us without a second thought!”

    “No, Sam, I couldn’t heal you!” she roars, tears spilling out of her eyes.

    Sam stops and the color runs out of his face. He takes a shaky step back. The only sound is Rowena’s slight hiccups. “What?” he asks, barely audible.

    “If it was _you_ , I wouldn’t be able heal you. I couldn’t—” she breaks off, tears leaving black streaks of mascara down her cheeks.

     “What—what are you saying?” Sam asks quietly, anger seeping out of his body to be replaced by something more humble.

    “You know what I’m saying.” She falls against the table, last bit of strength leaving her.

    “Rowena—” He starts toward her.

    “Don’t. Please.” Another sob wracks her body. “If you were dying, I wouldn’t be able to fix it. And it _scares_ me, Sam. It’s the most terrifying thing in the world.”

    Sam’s pace slows, but he still moves forward. “Hey.”

    “You’re right,” she cries, “I don’t have the capacity to care like this. I don’t know what to do with it!”

    “Yeah, well, I’m not any better,” Sam says, finally coming close enough to take her face in his hands. “Considering the things I just said.”

    “It’s not the same,” she says, shaking her head and trying to pull away.

    “It _is_ the same.” He holds on tight and swipes away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Do you—you know I wouldn’t be able to save you either, right?” She lets out a tiny gasp. “And that scares me, too. It _all_ scares me.”

    Rowena melts into him, pressing her face to his chest. “I’m sorry,” she says, muffled.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for. _I’m_ sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.” He shakes his head. “I know you know what you’re doing. I know the spell would backfire, but I just couldn’t let it go. I’m a shitty apprentice and a shitty . . .” He trails off, not able to find the word.

     _Just “friend” isn’t right anymore_ , Dean thinks.

    Sam and Rowena are at the edge of that very scary leap, toes hanging over the edge. It’s the same cliff that he and Cas stood at for years until the incident with Ramiel finally pushed them over.

    “You’ve done so much for all of us,” Sam says gently. “You got hurt in the first place for us. And I was awful to you.” His face sinks down into her red curls. “A thousand ‘sorry’s’ will never be enough.”

    “You’re hurting,” Rowena says, “and I know my coldness doesn’t help. It _is_ hard for me not to care, Sam. Especially after she saved my life.”

    “I know. I was so wrong.”

    “But you weren’t,” she says, tears bubbling back up as she pulls away. “I’ve failed. I know she doesn’t have much longer.” She wipes them away, leaving the faintest gray smudges. When her eyes open, they have new resolve. “I’ve decided. I’m going to do the spell.”

    “No, you can’t,” Sam says, grabbing her wrist. “I was being an ass, Rowena. This isn’t what I want. If you do this, it’ll kill you.”

    “It doesn’t matter,” she says, brushing him off, but Sam stays persistent.

    “It does matter. _You_ matter. To me. Please tell me you understand that.”

    Her hand slips into his, and she stares intently into his eyes. “Yes. But there isn’t much time left.”

    Cas clears his throat, finally making their presence known. “Sam. Rowena.” He walks toward the center of the room, Dean right behind him.

    Their faces flush as they realize they’re not alone. They take a step apart, but their hands stay clasped together. “Cas.”

    Dean isn’t sure what Cas is about to say. Cas glances at the collection of witchy supplies on the table, and looks back to Sam and Rowena. “I have an idea to save Mary.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're in looOOooOove


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “What if there was a way to replenish your magic?” Cas asks.

    Rowena sighs, leaning back against the table. “I suppose it could work, but it would be hard to get that kind of power, especially since I’m so limited right now in what I can create.”

    “And what if you didn’t have to create it?” Cas pushes. “What if you could draw from something that’s already there?”

    “What are you getting at, Cas?” Dean asks.

    “My grace,” Cas says, looking at him hopefully. “Well, not  _ my _ grace,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes as he realizes he’s misspoken. “But the grace that Sam and Rowena created for me and the baby.”

    “That grace was made for  _ you _ ,” Rowena says. “We can’t just use it on me.”

    “Is it incompatible?” Sam asks.

    “Well, no,” she sputters, “but Cas needs it. He and the bairn could die without it.”

    “I know,” Cas says, “but you and Sam can make more of it once Mary is healed. I’m sure we can survive for a few hours without it. We went weeks on our own before you came to help us.”

    “Could he?” Dean asks. “Would Cas be okay without it for a few hours?” Dean doesn’t even want to suggest risking Cas’s life, but if Cas is certain he’ll be okay, Dean has to trust him to make that choice.

    “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything—” She cuts herself off. “I mean,” she says, more calculated, “if you die, Castiel, then  _ I _ don’t get the Black Grimoire, and that certainly will not do at all.”

    “Rowena,” Sam says. “Please.”

    She pauses and looks frustrated. “Yes, fine, I think he would be all right. But I can’t promise anything,” she says firmly. “If this goes wrong, you can’t blame me for it. There  _ is _ a risk. And Castiel, you’ll likely be in some pain during that time.”

    Dean looks to Cas in concern, but Cas reassures him, “I can handle it for a few hours, Dean. I promise, I’ll be fine.”

    “What about the spell itself?” Sam asks. “Will it be difficult?”

    “Not difficult at all,” Rowena chuckles humorlessly. “Not at all pleasant either. Not even a spell, really.”

    “What do you mean?” Dean asks.

    “With a spell, the grace will take too long to recharge my magic. Magic is fickle; it’ll try to reject an unknown power, costing us precious time we don’t have. No, I’ll have to inject it, right into the core of my power.”

    “But that’s your heart,” Sam says with quiet horror.

    “Like I said, it’s not pleasant,” she replies with a grimace, “but it is the quickest and safest way for Cas.”

 

    By time they are set up, Sam is still unconvinced, but he lets Rowena call all the shots anyways. Dean suspects that’s he’s trying to make up for the nasty argument they had earlier, but it just leaves them all feeling stiff and a little uncomfortable in the weighted silence between Sam and Rowena.

    Rowena sits atop the table, hands trembling in her lap. Dean notes that that seems to be the biggest symptom of her magic being drained, and it makes him wonder how much power she usually holds in her literal fingertips.

    She pulls nervously at the collar of Sam’s button up shirt, which is long enough on her to be a dress. “Pull the grace into the syringe slowly, Sam,” she warns. “The effects of withdrawal will be more severe for Cas if you go too quickly.” She turns her gaze to Dean and Cas. “You’ll want to get him sitting down,” she instructs Dean. “No matter how careful Sam is, this will take a lot out of your boyfriend.”

    “But you’re not even sticking the needle in him.”

    “Doesn’t matter,” Sam says. “I’ll be taking away the power that’s been sustaining him. He’s going to feel weak.”

    Cas settles into a chair, and Dean watches closely, a hand on Cas’s shoulder, as Sam begins to pull grace into the vial slowly from the box on the table.

    It seems to have no effect on Cas until about halfway through, at which points he lets out a small groan and wriggles in his seat.

    “Sam, stop,” Dean says.

    “Keep going, Sam. I’m fine,” Cas growls. He looks up at Dean. “You have to trust me to do this, Dean. I am strong enough to last a few hours.”

    “Sorry, I know,” Dean says, shaking his head. He brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Just don’t like seeing you in pain is all.”

    Cas’s eyelids droop slightly as the rest of the grace is sucked into the syringe, but for the most part seems to fare pretty well. “How do you feel, Cas?” Sam asks.

    “Tired. And my abdomen is sore,” he says, “but I’ll be okay, Sam. Do what you have to do.”

    “Okay.” He approaches Rowena nervously and takes a deep breath. Rowena shrinks away the smallest amount. “Are  _ you _ okay?”

    Her nose wrinkles, and her brows scrunch together, but she bravely unbuttons the top two buttons of Sam’s shirt, and pulls the collar aside, exposing the skin above her heart. “I just... am not the most fond of needles. What can I say? I’m a product of my time.” She glances up at Sam. “It’s all right, I’ll live.” Her eyes say otherwise, glazed over by the deep-rooted fear. Dean can’t exactly blame her; the needle is about three inches long and it’s going to a very sensitive place.

    “It’ll be okay,” Sam says, leaning in close, stroking her hair. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to kiss her on the mouth, but he touches his lips to her forehead instead. He brings the needle up, but hesitates as it hovers over her chest.

    “Oh, for goodness sake, Sam,” Rowena says, with a roll of her eyes. She wraps her hands as much around Sam’s as she can, guiding the needle directly over her heart. “Get on with—” She cuts herself off with a gasp as she plunges the syringe deep into her chest.

    “Rowena!” Sam cries, frozen in shock.

    “Goddamnit, Samuel,” she wheezes, eyes rolling up in her head, and shaking hands falling to her sides. “Push the bloody plunger down and get it out of me already.” Sam quickly injects the artificial grace, and pulls the needle out. He is just as quick to press a gauze pad to the puncture wound and tape it down firmly.

    Rowena’s eyes glow with angel grace. “I’ll have to move fast,” she says, jumping down off the table and hurrying over to Mary’s side. “This power source isn’t the most stable.” Sam frowns as she slips away, and he trails close behind, ready to catch her if she falls.

    “Will it work, though?” Dean asks.

    “As long as she’s not too far gone, then yes,” Rowena says.

    Dean knows it’s going to be close. He had taken Mary’s pulse a few minutes before, and it was extremely weak. He also couldn’t ignore the coldness of her skin, even in the crook of her neck where he had placed his fingers.

    Rowena pulls up the hem of Mary’s shirt, revealing the bloody wound. “I need all of you to keep an eye on this,” she instructs. “The wound should glow, but magic should not seep out of it. If it does, you must let me know. I may be inclined to give too much, but I think I can manage my emotions well enough to avoid that problem.”

    Rowena lays her hands on Mary and begins to mutter in a language Dean doesn’t recognize. After a few moments, the wound begins to glow just the slightest bit.

    It’s akin to watching paint dry, except the stakes are life and death. Dean can see the wound close bit by bit, but it’s nothing like the lesser, fast-acting spell that Sam had cast to heal Rowena. The skin stitches itself back together excruciatingly slowly.

    The wound begins to glow a bit more, and it heals up a bit faster. But after a moment, the skin seems to split apart again, and cold blue grace starts to spill out.

    “Rowena,” Sam warns. The grace only flows out more quickly.

    “Rowena,” Dean barks, much more firmly than Sam. The witch forces a breath out, and with it, the grace subdues. The wound begins to glow subtly again, and Mary continues to heal.

    After a few moments, the wound is completely gone. The glow spreads from her stomach to the rest of her body, shining ever so faintly and pulsing under her skin.

    Suddenly, she bolts upright with a gasp.

    “Mom!” Dean exclaims, rushing to her side.

    Rowena staggers back, glow returning to her eyes. Sam catches her. “I have to let the rest of it go,” she gasps. “My body can’t handle this kind of power long-term.” He guides her back to the table, and quickly slices her palm in a clean line with an iron knife. She sighs with relief as the extra grace pours out of her and dissipates into the atmosphere.

    “What the—?” Mary exclaims. “What happened?” She looks around wildly, finally catching Dean’s eye as he hovers over her. “Dean, we were just at Ketch’s. How did we get here?”

    “Do you really not remember?” Rowena asks, her exhausted body only held up by Sam’s arms, wrapped around her. “My dear, you jumped in front of a bullet for me. You saved my life.”

    Mary blinks confusedly. “It’s coming back to me... kind of.” She shakes her head. “It feels like a weird, distant dream.” She looks down at her abdomen, still exposed, and runs a hand over her skin. “I was shot here,” she murmurs.

    “Yeah, Rowena just patched you up.” Sam smiles sadly. “It was really close, Mom. We thought you were gone.”

    Dean can’t help the tears that finally spill over. He wordlessly pulls Mary into a tight hug, feeling sobs wrack his body.

    “Wow, I guess it really was close,” she says softly, rubbing soothing circles in his back that only cause more tears to spring to his eyes. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m here.” Dean can feel her head shift to look at Sam. “How long was I out?”

    “Three whole days. Almost four,” Sam says. Dean looks up to see him wiping away his own stray tears.

    Mary’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. What about Ketch? The Men of Letters must be wondering—”

    Dean coughs. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, wiping his face. The ache still throbs deep in his chest, even though the tears have subsided. Sam helps Rowena into a chair and takes his own turn hugging Mary. “We’ve been responding to texts for you. As far as they know, you, me, Cas, and Sam are all working a werewolf case in Cali. And Rowena was able to to put a memory spell on Ketch, so he has no idea what went down.”

    Her attention turns to Cas at those words, and Sam pulls away, returning to Rowena. “Cas, are you okay?”

    “Yes,” he grunts, holding his belly as he shifts in his seat to face her. “We used the replacement grace Rowena and Sam made for me to fuel this spell. I’m uncomfortable at the moment, but I’ll live.”

    Dean walks over to Cas, and presses a kiss into his hair. Fresh affection blooms in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for saving her.” He straightens up and points at Rowena. “You too. I don’t envy that,” he says, gesturing towards the bandage over her heart.

    “Speaking of which, let me get that healed up,” Sam says, helping Rowena to her feet. Upon standing, her knees buckle, but he is quick to catch and lift her. “‘Sides, I think you and I have a lot to talk about.” She smiles softly and rests her head against his shoulder, red curls cascading over his arm. He carries her to the other corner of the room and begins gathering supplies.

    Mary quirks an eyebrow and gives Dean a mischievous smile. “What’s going on with them?”

    Dean leans in. “Okay, don’t freak out, and don’t say anything to them... but I think they’ve got a thing going. You know,” Mary squints ever so slightly, and nods, taking in his words. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

    She shakes her head with a small laugh. “Even if it did still bother me, I don’t think I have the right to  _ have _ a problem. She did just stick a needle in her heart to save me.”

    “So you’ll stay now, right?” Dean asks hopefully.

    “Dean,” Cas says in a warning tone.

    Mary smiles sadly. “I wish I could. But...” she looks to Cas, who already seems to be on the same page.

    Cas sighs. “If she stays here, the Men of Letters will definitely get suspicious. It seems that we’ve already gotten their attention a few times, and we don’t want that to happen again.”

    “So you’re just going to go back to them?” Dean asks. He doesn’t have it in him to be mad at Mary, but the thought of her leaving already after  _ just _ avoiding death is a hurt he can hardly bear.

    “Not really. I mean, after what I’ve seen, I obviously can’t side with them anymore. I’ll be a double agent. Hopefully if they try anything really bad, I’ll be able to warn you in time.”

    There’s an irrational, childlike side to Dean that wants to insist on Mary staying, the side that wants to have his cake and eat it too. But he knows deep down that Cas and Mary are right, and the last thing he wants to do is put Cas and the baby in danger by selfishly keeping his mom near.

“All right,” he says. “I don’t like it, but I know you guys are right. Please don’t go yet, though,” he insists. Mary raises an eyebrow, and Dean explains, “Let us look after you for another day or two. Just to make sure you’re right as rain. The werewolf case should keep them from getting too suspicious until then.”

    “Are you sure about that?” Mary asks. “You know, they look into all this stuff. I’m honestly shocked they haven’t come looking for me yet.”

    “That’s the best part,” he replies. “The werewolf case? It’s real. Jody’s got a coupl’a connections out there who spent the better part of the week tracking them down.”

    “They found the hideout yesterday,” Cas continues. “They’re just waiting on the word to go in and wipe out the pack.”

    Mary smiles. “You boys really thought of everything.” She takes one of each of their hands in her own. “Thank you.”

    “Eh, it was mostly Cas and Rowena,” Dean brushes off. “Sam and I have been a complete mess. Mostly useless.”

    She drops their hands, and her smile drops, too. She takes a deep breath, brows rising as the air comes in. She looks off to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

    “Mom, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Dean tells her. “Look, you’re back now; everything’s fine. And what you did didn’t only save Rowena; it pretty much saved Cas, too.”

    “I know you don’t trust her. That makes the act all the more heroic,” Cas says. “And I know it means a lot to Sam. He’s been torn up about it, being grateful to have Rowena alive, but being worried for you.”

    “Well, I fully trust her now. And I’m grateful for what she’s done. For all of us. I was wrong about her. And I’m glad for that.” She pats Cas’s shoulder affectionately. “You were a hero too today. You must be tired.”

    “A bit,” Cas admits.

    “All right, let’s get you rested up a bit,” Dean says, and Cas makes no move to protest. “At least until we get some new grace in you.”

    “Hopefully sooner rather than later,” Cas says. “I must confess, I’ve grown used to having it there. Operating as a human... it’s exhausting.”

    “I bet,” Dean says, wrapping an arm around him to help him up the stairs. “Well, Sam should get Rowena fixed up enough soon so they can redo the spell.” He frowns, an unpleasant image crossing his mind. “That is, as long as they’re not too busy humping like rabbits.”

    “Hey, we heard that!” Sam hollers from the far end of the library, and Dean nearly collapses into laughter. A big smile even spreads itself across Cas’s face, despite the roll of his eyes that accompanies it.

  
  



	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    Later that night is the embodiment of a feeling that Dean can only describe as “the calm before the storm.” Or maybe more accurately, “the eye of the hurricane.” After all, it’s been one life-threatening event after another for what feels like months now, and trying to keep Rowena and Mary both alive and well the past few days has felt like a literal whirlwind. Not to mention that they are still on thin ice with the Men of Letters, Mary will be leaving them again soon, and, as much as it seems impossible to have come so quickly, it likely won’t be much longer before Cas gives birth and the two of them become _parents_.

    For now though, it is peaceful. Practically a dream, really. Dean looks around the table, and his heart brims over as he looks around at all of his loved ones. It’s a slice of the normal type of life he can never have, and maybe that’s enough.

    Of course, their special family dinner is just a huge bucket of KFC with a side of microwaved mashed potatoes from a box, but after the crazy events of the day, nobody, not even Dean, was much in the mood for actually doing the cooking. Besides, in some ways it fits their no-frills, patchwork family. Somehow, even Rowena, always the picture of elegance and grace, looks completely at home holding a big piece of fried chicken in her perfectly manicured hands.

    Still, Sam’s arm casually draped around her shoulders may have something to do with that.

    He looks over to Cas, who smiles at him and asks, “What?” He searches Dean’s eyes for the answer.

    “Nothing,” Dean says, a bit embarrassed to be caught thinking such sappy thoughts. But then again, _screw it,_ he thinks. _We’ve earned this._ “Just happy is all,” he says, taking Cas’s hand and rubbing his thumb along Cas’s knuckles. “Not gonna lie, this is kind of perfect.”

    “Think you’ll still be saying that when you die of a heart attack at fifty?” Sam teases.

    “Sam!” Mary scolds, taken aback at the dark humor that the brothers are accustomed to.

    Dean chuckles, brushing it off. “Not the food. I mean us, here, all together. As a family.”

    Sam and Cas wear the biggest grins. Rowena fights a smile and dips her head, not-so-subtly leaning into Sam a moment later. But Mary frowns.

    “I’m so sorry Dean,” she says. “I don’t want to go, but—”

    “Mom, there was no underlying message there,” Dean clarifies, not wanting to ruin the moment by making his mother feel guilty. “I’m just glad to have us all here. Right now. And you’ll be back, right?”

    “Of course,” she says. “This is where I _want_ to be. As soon as I can get out of the Men of Letters without arousing suspicion.”

    “We’ll figure it out,” Sam reassures her. With a sigh, he leans back and pushes his plate away. “Wow, I’m full. That was too much.”

    “Same here,” Dean says, fully satisfied by the weight of a big meal in his stomach. “Hey,” he says, looking over at Cas’s plate. “You need to eat more. Today was a lot for you.”

    “Dean, I’m fine,” Cas says, clearly amused as Dean shovels more potatoes onto his plate.

    “You two as well,” Dean says to Rowena and Mary, ignoring Cas’s protestations.

    “Och, no, I’m stuffed to the gills as it is,” Rowena says, leaning back into the crook of Sam’s elbow. “Any more and I’ll have to be carried out.”

    “That’s too bad you’re all full,” Mary says with a twinkle in her eye that is directed primarily towards Dean. “There’s pie for dessert.”

    Dean’s ears perk up. “Did you say pie?”

    “I thought you were full,” Cas teases.

    Dean shakes his head, jumping up to bring the empty dinner plates to the sink. “Cas, if there’s one thing I’m always prepared for, it’s pie.”

 

    Nobody had been truly prepared for the pie, not even Dean. What Mary brought out had to be the most delicious, sweetest, heaviest apple pie that Dean had ever tasted, the kind that made everyone, including those not the most keen on dessert, want a second or third piece despite nearly bursting at the seams. Dinner had concluded with everyone feeling lazy and satisfied, slowly making their way up from the table and into the library, having no better place to go. It makes Dean think of Thanksgiving Day, way back in the early days of his childhood.

    “We need a den or something,” he says. “You know, some couches, a flatscreen. Somewhere we can all just hang out.”

    “We need a nursery first,” Cas points out, resting a hand on his belly.

    “Well, we don’t have either right now, and it’s a little too late to get started tonight,” Sam says, shaking his head with a smile. “How about a game?”

    “What kind of game?” Cas asks.

    “I’ve got a few board games,” Sam says. “If you guys want…”

    “Since when do we have board games?” Dean asks. “We never play board games.”

    “Well, yeah, because it’s been just two or three of us here. Never enough to play. Or we’re too busy staring down some big bad.”

    “Is this some dusty old stuff the Men of Letters had?” Dean pushes.

    “Uh, no. I picked up a few over the past few years. I dunno. Just thinking if we ever had the chance…” He goes over to a drawer in a cabinet that Dean hasn’t opened in years and pulls out a stack of games that is definitely more than “a few.”

    “Whoa,” Dean says, and he is definitely going to poke fun at Sam for all of this. Later. “Okay, what do we got?”

    “Uh, Checkers, Chess—no good for five—Twister—”

    “Dear me, not after that meal,” Rowena groans, stretching dramatically.

    “Life, Cards Against Humanity—”

    “That doesn’t sound very nice,” Mary and Cas say at the same time and then look to each other.

    “Huh, a bunch of card games. Hmm.” He shakes his head and puts them aside. “Uh, Monopoly, Trouble, Munchkin—”

    “Munchkin?” Dean asks. “What’s that?”

    “Oh, that one’s really fun,” Sam says. “Every man for himself and, heh, pretty chaotic.” Rowena perks up a bit and sneaks a glance at the game.

    “Lemme see,” Dean says, and grabs the box. “‘Kill the monsters, steal the treasure, stab your buddy?’ Really, Sam, you haven’t killed enough _real_ monsters in your life?” He looks through the rest. “No Betrayal in the House on the Hill either,” he says, recognizing it from a video he saw online. “That’s every Saturday night for us.”

 

    They end up choosing Monopoly, accompanied by alcohol to keep everyone in light spirits so they won’t all hate each other by the end. Cas assures them he’s perfectly fine with sitting out as the rest of them drink, just happy to be in good company. The mood is still competitive, but everyone has a good time. Maybe too good. It doesn’t take long at all for Rowena to abandon her chair entirely and plunk herself down into Sam’s lap (though she fails to convince the rest of them to let her and Sam pool their assets), and Dean finds himself resting his head on Cas’s shoulder, even as Cas takes the last of his money for rent. It turns out Cas is really great at Monopoly. Or perhaps, the rest of them are just really drunk.

    It’s more likely the latter.

    Either way, Cas obliterates them all, and Dean ends the night in high spirits, claiming smugly that he’s married rich.

    “We’re not married though, Dean,” Cas whispers as everyone staggers off to their respective rooms. Well, almost. Rowena tries to follow Sam to his, but he very gently guides her to her own door, chastitizing her for being drunk, blushing furiously.

    “Well, we could change that at some point if you want,” Dean says, emboldened by his own tipsiness. Cas just smiles, not answering. “I mean, we’re gonna have a kid soon. Why not make it official?”

    “Is... is this a proposal, Dean?” Cas asks very seriously.

    “What?! No. No, no way, not freakin’ drunk and with no ring Cas, c’mon. More just... testing the waters, I guess. Seeing if that’d be something you’d be interested in.” He ducks his head and scratches the back of his neck.

    “Oh.” There’s a long pause. “Yes,” Cas says, firmly and happily. “Yes, I would like that. Provided that you are sober. And with a ring, if that part is important to you.”

    “It is,” Dean says, squeezing Cas with a smile. “Gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

 

    The next few days are rougher than that perfect night. It’s hard to let Mary go, especially with the trauma of what happened to her so fresh. Dean just clings onto that happy memory of them all together and promises himself that they will get her back. For good. Until then, though, he’ll always have the slightest nagging worry in the back of his mind that the Men of Letters will somehow catch on to their secret and hurt her.

    Rowena has also been a bit of a concern. She’s still not fully recovered from the events of the past few weeks, even though she’s generally in better spirits. So far, any spellwork has been done by Sam, including the restoration of Cas’s grace. They’ve all caught her hands shaking, but do nothing more than exchange looks with each other, all too scared to say anything.

    Finally, Sam speaks up after they find her staring into space, hands trembling where they rest on the table. Dean and Cas watch unobtrusively from behind a bookshelf, pretending to look for a specific text. “Rowena,” Sam says gently, shaking her out of whatever thought or memory she’d been stuck in.

    “Oh, Sam! You startled me,” she says, spreading a fake smile across her face. Her hands shake more.

    “Rowena,” he says a bit more firmly, taking them in his own. She lets in a sharp inhale of breath. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you doing okay?”

    “What, this?” she asks lightheartedly, attempting to gesture with her hands, but Sam keeps his hold. She rolls her eyes, realizing there’s no chance of beating around the bush. “Honestly, I don’t know what it is. My magic is stable; it shouldn’t be a problem anymore, but the shaking just won’t go away.”

    “You know, it may be more than a physical thing,” he says, squinting slightly in thought. “What you went through…it wouldn’t be surprising if there was a psychological component.” Rowena scoffs, attempting to pull away again. “No one would think any less of you for it,” he says. “You can talk to me.”

    She sighs, giving in. “Yes, all right. _Later_ though, without nosy family listening in,” she says pointedly, and Dean coughs, trying to look very invested in what he and Cas are “reading.” There’s a slight pause. “Also… Sam our supplies are running low, especially after having to heal both me and your mother. But the nearest market I used to attend…gone now. He destroyed all of it.” Dean looks up in time to see her nose wrinkle with disdain and uncertainty.

    “But you have other places you can buy from, right?”

    “Yes, but—”

    “I’ll go with you,” he says, and Dean sneaks another peak. Rowena looks relieved to not have to voice her fears aloud. “How am I supposed to be a decent witch if I don’t ever learn how to shop for myself, right?”

    She smiles, though not without a little sadness. “Right.”

 

    It isn’t much later after Sam and Rowena leave to buy more supplies that Dean’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and his brow creases at the unknown number.

    “Who is it?” Cas asks.

    “No idea,” Dean says, and accepts the call. “Hello?”

    “Dean,” says a man with a British accent. For a moment Dean is worried and bewildered, wondering who from the British Men of Letters could be calling them, and why.

    “Wait, is this Mick?” Dean asks after recognizing the voice. “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Cas is here too.”

    “Hello,” Cas says, leaning in toward the phone.

    “Ah, hello. Sorry to be calling from an unknown number, but using my mobile was too much of a risk. Boys, I’m sorry to say we have a bit of a problem.”

    Dean’s heart beats a little faster and he prays it isn’t something urgent that Sam and Rowena should be here for. “A problem?” he repeats, trying to keep his cool.

    “Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know quite how to say this, but…it seems the Men of Letters have been doing some investigating behind the scenes. Top secret work that I’ve only just become privy to.”

    “What kind of work?” Cas asks.

    “They are aware that there’s a natalux soon to come into existence. And it’s only a matter of time before they find out.”

    “Find out what?” Dean asks, though he already knows the answer. His blood runs cold.

    “Before they find out about Castiel.”

  



	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “Hold on, how did they even find out?” Sam asks after Dean and Cas relay the news to him and Rowena upon their return.

    “They invented technology to pick up any signs of a nephilim before Jack was born and brought to Heaven,” Cas explains. “When it picked up on a natalux after Jack disappeared, they were naturally surprised.”

    “But they don’t know it’s you,” Rowena says unsurely.

    “No. Not yet, anyway,” Cas says. “But it’s only a matter of time. They know I’m an angel living on Earth who has a so-called ‘soft spot’ for humans. It won’t be the first conclusion they come to, seeing as I’m in a male vessel, but they’ll connect the dots eventually.”

    “And in the unlikely event they don’t figure it out, they’ll probably come looking to us for  _ help,” _ Dean says, “which will lead to the same problem.”

    “So, what do we do?” Sam asks. “I mean, it’s not an immediate threat, but it’s a concern.”

    “Well, normally I’d say we bring the fight to them, but I don’t think we can risk it,” Dean says. “Not while Cas is still pregnant. We need everyone we can get on our side to fight a huge organization like the Men of Letters. That means the baby safely born and out of the way, and Cas fully healed up and ready to fight.”

    “So what, then?” Rowena exclaims. “We wait here like sitting ducks? Not a good plan, boys.”

    “It means we have to be ready for anything,” Cas says. “Ready to move out and make our escape at a moment’s notice, ready to fight, ready for whatever happens.”

    “Cas is right,” Sam says. “We have an escape plan established. I say we perfect that and prep the cave some more.”

    “The cave?” Rowena asks.

    “You know, the little hideout spot we found. The hope is that they don’t come for us until after Cas has given birth, but if they do, we’ll have somewhere to go and regroup.”

    “And if they do come for us before Cas pops, we’ll be ready to defend ourselves and get out of Dodge,” Dean says. “Cas, I know you’re not the biggest fan, but we gotta train you up on guns. If a fight comes down to hand-to-hand combat, you’re not gonna stand a chance like this.”

    Cas lets out a small grunt of displeasure, but nods. “You’re right. It’ll be safest for the baby that way.”

    “And Rowena and I will see if we can fortify the Bunker anymore with some spells,” Sam says. “The harder it is for them to get in, the better.”

    “All right,” Dean says, shaking his head. Nothing in this situation is ideal, but they’re gonna give it all they’ve got. “Let’s kick it in the ass.”

 

    Over the next month, they train hard. Dean helps Cas master guns. It’s not easy. At first, Cas seems hopeless, and Dean is somewhat in awe of how a former angel could be such a bad shot. It doesn’t take long for Cas to improve, though, and once he does, he does so rapidly. By the end of the week, Cas is an expert marksman, and they move on from the handgun to heavier artillery.

    At the same time, Rowena and Sam are busy with spellwork. There’s not much more they can do to protect the Bunker itself since it’s already heavily warded, but they do magically reinforce all the locks. “It won’t keep them out forever, but it should buy a little time,” Rowena says when she and Sam reveal what they’ve been working on. They also manage to put a glamor on the hideout cave so it will be harder to find without already knowing its location, as well as warding it with the same protections the Bunker has.

    After they determine that there’s not anything else to be done for protection, they train with combative spells. Sam picks them up fairly quickly, but Rowena is a better teacher than fighter. A good amount of her spells are weak, some not working at all, and she always comes out of training with uncontrollably shaky hands. They’re all concerned, but nobody knows what to do at this point, not even Sam who has tried to encourage her as much as possible.

    “What do we do?” Sam asks one night as they pretend not to hear Rowena crying softly in her room. “She’s powerful, Dean; I know she still has the ability. For some reason, she just can’t access it.”

    “I know. I mean, I saw her heal Mom, and I know that was no easy spell. But since then…”

    “Yeah.” Sam pauses. “I don’t know what to do at this point. I’ve talked to her so many times. It’s not like we’re at a loss for what’s wrong. She admits that she’s still scared, and honestly, she has every right to be. We just don’t know how to fix it.” He sighs. “And I think that I’m only making it worse. That everytime I bring it up, I’m just fueling her fear.”

    “Hmm,” Dean says. “Well, maybe we step away from the magic for a bit. Cas has got the guns down well, Rowena needs a break from spellwork. Let’s practice hand-to-hand.”

    So, over the next few weeks, Dean, Sam, and Rowena make a habit of sparring with each other. Sam and Dean are seasoned fighters, but Rowena has a surprising amount of physical strength for someone of her stature, along with a good reaction speed. She proves to be a formidable challenge. Cas also trains, but only with Dean. It’s not that Dean doesn’t trust Sam or Rowena, but at this point he can read Cas better than anyone, and he knows when Cas is at his limit, even if he’s too stubborn to say anything. Cas complains that Dean is going soft on him, but Dean would rather that Cas doesn’t see any hand-to-hand combat anyway. It’s just to keep him reasonably in shape in case the worst happens.

     As Cas gets bigger and the inevitable grows closer, they start to establish a birth plan as well.

    “We’ll do a c-section, obviously,” Dean says, but Rowena quirks her head. “What? It’s not like there’s another option, is there?”

    “At the end of the day, that’s up to Cas,” she says. “But no, I wouldn’t advise it.”

    “Why not?” Cas asks.

    “The magical and the medical don’t always mix well,” she explains. “If we do anything surgical, there’s always a chance that a spell will interfere. Especially the one I cast to give you a womb. I may have done too good of a job; it could fight back.”

    “Fight  _ back _ ?” Dean asks incredulously. “Okay,” he says, brushing away that thought. “Then what are the options?”

    “The best one, in my opinion? I’ll make more modifications to Cas’s body, temporary of course, just as I did before. He’ll give birth naturally, well, as natural as a former angel in a male vessel can.”

    Dean doesn’t need a mirror to know that he’s gone totally pale. “You mean what? Like a vagina?” Rowena shrugs, indicating that he’s more or less correct. That’s not his main concern, however. “Won’t that  _ hurt?” _

    “I imagine, yes, it’ll hurt quite a lot considering he’ll be in labor. The spell itself though? No, easy peasy.” Dean nods and bites the inside of his lip, not wanting to ask the other question weighing on his mind. Thankfully he doesn’t have to. “Of course, if I find myself…unable, Sam can do it.” Sam looks at her, alarmed. “He’s skilled enough to do it at this point.”

    “I’m sure I won’t have to,” he says quickly, taking her hand. It lays limp in his, trembling ever so slightly.

    Cas frowns at this, but ultimately says, “I’ll go the natural route. Or rather, as you said, the most natural it can get for me. Whatever is safest for her.”

    “And what about Cas?” Dean demands. “Is that the safest for him, too?”

    “Most definitely,” Rowena says.

    “Okay,” Dean says. He still feels a bit nervous, but in the end, he trusts the judgement of the rest of his family.

 

    As the month draws to a close, preparations begin to wind down. At this point, they’ve warded everything, trained hard, strategically hidden weapons all over the bunker, and have established a plan for the birth of Dean and Cas’s child.

    Cas is also slowing down. He’s grown huge in the past month, and although he has no complaints of discomfort, his giant belly certainly looks cumbersome to Dean. They spar much more lightly now, though Cas insists that they still do some.

    Cas comes out of their current session tired and winded, but he had defended himself very well against Dean’s attacks. “I’m not very good at this anymore,” he claims a bit breathlessly.

    “Nonsense,” Dean says. “You did good today, Cas.” He rubs Cas’s shoulders and helps him sit at the library table. “I feel good knowing you can still defend yourself at close range.” Cas grunts and readjusts the way he’s sitting, one hand supporting the weight of his hugely distended belly.

    Both Sam and Rowena’s noses wrinkle. “You guys need showers,” Sam says. He laughs, looking to Dean. “Especially you.”

    “I know, shut up,” Dean quips. “Water and food first.” He runs down to the kitchen and pulls a huge sub out of the fridge, along with two bottles of water. He brings them back to the library, passing a water bottle to Cas before unwrapping the sub.

    “What are you guys up to?” he asks, taking a bite of his half. Rowena and Sam are hovering over a book at the other table.

    “We’re going over the spells that we’ll be using to assist Cas’s labor,” Rowena says.

    “You should come check it out,” Sam says, “if you want to know what we’ll be doing.”

    “That sounds awful and I would rather not,” Dean says, seriously regretting his last few bites of sandwich as images of childbirth pop into his head. “But I will because I gotta know exactly how this is gonna go down.” He gets up and goes over to the book, and Rowena and Sam do their best to explain what will be happening. Dean feels a bit squeamish as they go through all the intense medical details, but he wants to be fully ready when it’s time for Cas to give birth.

    After a few minutes, they are interrupted. “Dean,” Cas says, voice wavering with a gentle sense of awe. At first Dean thinks it’s in response to something Rowena said, but when he turns around, Cas is staring down at his belly, a hand placed on either side of it.

    Dean automatically assumes the worst. “Shit, Cas, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you in sparring, did I?” He notices that Cas’s face is a bit flushed, and his breath tempo slightly accelerated.

    “No, Dean,” Cas says in that same breathless voice, and he finally looks up at him and meets his eyes. His own eyes are wide, and his lips are turned up in the slightest disbelieving smile. “I think it’s time.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg he's finally in labor! (1 and a half years later...)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “Time? You mean like…now?” Dean stammers, totally taken aback. Not that he should be. Cas is as big as a house by now, and they’ve been preparing for this for weeks. Still, he feels like a chicken running around with his head cut off at this piece of news. “Are you sure?”

    Thankfully, everyone else is more calm about the situation than Dean, even Cas himself. “Fairly certain, yes. I’ve felt different the past few days, and I think I’ve been having contractions.”

    “ _Been_ having?” Dean exclaims.

    “They weren’t major, Dean. I wasn’t in active labor yet. But this last one felt different.”

    Dean looks to Rowena and Sam for help, not knowing what to do.

    Rowena steps up. “How far apart have they been?”

    “It’s hard to tell. I’ve only felt a few. I don’t think they were full contractions.”

    She looks back to Dean. “It could just be Braxton Hicks. We’ll keep a close eye and see if he has any more. But he’s probably right. It’s about the right time, love.”

 

    Cas insists he’s feeling well enough to take a shower, so he does, despite Dean’s hovering. Dean knows he’s being a bit stifling, but he can’t help but be worried. Everything they’ve gone through the past few months has been leading up to this, and it feel like the world will end if even one little thing goes wrong.

    It’s a quick, uneventful shower, and Dean begins to think that Cas might not be in labor yet after all. After he’s all dried and dressed, Rowena and Sam come to take another look at him.

    “Well,” Rowena says. “It’s been almost fifteen minutes and no contractions?” Cas nods his head to confirm. She takes his hand and pats it gently. “Well, we’ll continue to monitor you, but it seems—oh!”

    It takes Dean a moment to realize exactly what’s going on. It’s not until Cas bends over slightly with a pained expression that Dean sees the death grip he has on Rowena’s hand. Despite this, Rowena is grinning at this progression with delight.

    “Cas!” he exclaims, leaning over to meet Cas’s eye. “That’s a contraction isn’t it?”

    “Yes,” Cas gasps, still holding onto Rowena’s hand for dear life. “And it’s much stronger than the first one.”

    “I think it’s safe to say he’s in labor,” Sam says. He claps Dean on the shoulder. “Congrats.”

    “Okay,” Dean says, trying to make sense of it all. “Okay. Cas, buddy, you okay? Wanna sit down?”

    “No, let me get through this one first.” Despite his pain, Cas smiles. “She’s coming, Dean. She’s finally going to be here.”

    “I know,” Dean says, but he’s a little too overwhelmed by everything to properly celebrate. “Okay, after this is done, let’s get you lying down, and Sam and Rowena can get to work on you, okay?”

    “Okay.” The next twenty seconds seem like forever, but at the end of them, Cas is still standing and also smiling, oddly enough. He loosens his hold on Rowena’s hand. “Sorry,” he says to her, but she just smiles and pats his cheek sympathetically. He presses a hand to the underside of his abdomen tentatively. “I think that one’s passed.”

    They get him into bed so Rowena can do her thing. She moves quickly, setting up all kinds of ingredients and all the notes that she and Sam have taken. But when she finishes setting up and there’s nothing left to fiddle with, she pauses.

    Her hands are shaking.

    “Sam,” she says brightly, as if nothing is wrong. “Why don’t you take this one?”

    “What?” he says. “No, no, Rowena. I can’t. Really.”

    “Why not?” she insists. “You’ve certainly got the talent. It should be no problem.” She takes his hand and drags him a short distance away, but they remain within earshot, whether she realizes it or not.

    “No,” Sam says, standing his ground. “C’mon, we both know transfigurations are my weakest skill. I haven’t had enough practice yet. I don’t wanna hurt Cas.”

    “Neither do I,” she hisses, shoving her trembling hands in his face. He catches them in his own.

    “Why?” he asks, staring deep into her eyes. “I know you can do it, Rowena. It’ll be okay.”

    “No, you _don’t._ It could be a complete disaster!” She wrenches her hands out of Sam’s grasp and stalks to the other side of the room. She stops, facing the wall. “Why you ever wanted me as a teacher, I’ll never know,” she says softly. “All I’ve done is fail my entire life. Failed at finding a husband, failed at being a mother. Failed at being a witch, which is all I ever wanted to be!” She lets out a sad, humourless laugh. “You should have been taught by the Grand Coven.”

    “Hey,” Dean speaks up. “The Grand Coven is trash.” Rowena whips her head around disbelievingly. “You’ve got way more ‘snuff’ than them.” Cas and Sam give him confused looks, but it lands for Rowena. For the briefest moment, her lips curl at the ends.

    Still, she remains unconvinced and shakes her head, turning away again. “I really don’t.”

    “Well, that’s bullshit,” Sam says, shifting a bit forward, but not quite yet approaching her. “Dean and I have seen all kinds of witches. Hell, we’ve _fought_ them. And neither of us has ever seen a witch as skilled as you, Rowena.” He sighs. “I know what Ketch did was horrifying, and yeah, it’ll take a while to fully recover from that. But you can’t lose confidence in yourself. Nobody could have stopped that alone. You are powerful.”

    “No, I _was_ powerful,” she spits, whirling around to face him. “Past tense. But now? I’m not strong like you, Sam. Or like Cas, or Dean, or your mother. I’m scared. I’m…weak.”

    Dean can practically see as something clicks in Sam’s mind. “Wait,” he says, slowly approaching. “Do you really think strength is about never losing? Never being _scared?”_ Her eyes become glossy with unshed tears. “We’re all scared,” he says, gesturing around the room. “A lot of the time actually. And we’ve been knocked down more times than I can count. The important part is getting back up. Look, it’s not about what has scared you, what has hurt you. It’s about all the things that you have _survived._ And Rowena, you’ve survived a lot. We all see that.”

    She fights back tears, breathing in short gasps. She collects herself and says in a near-whisper, “I just don’t want to disappoint you. Any of you.”

    “Rowena, I don’t know if you realize it, but you’re family now,” Dean says from his perch by Cas’s side. “You won’t disappoint us. At this point, you just can’t. We’re here with you, no matter what.”

    Rowena gasps and turns back to Sam.

    “He’s right,” he says. “Our love for you —  _my_ love for you — none of it is conditional.”

    She looks at him for a moment until the words fully sink in. Her face crumbles, and she launches her arms around him. Sam rubs her shoulders gently, whispering something in her ear. When they part, she’s finally wearing a smile again, a _real_ smile.

    And her hands are steady.

    “Well, no use standing around,” she says, sniffing back all evidence of her tears. “Ready to have a baby?” she asks Cas mirthfully.

    “I-is that a trick question?” he asks, taken aback at the sudden change in mood.

    Just as Rowena promised, the spell doesn’t put Cas through any significant pain, nor does he seem bothered by the change in his anatomy. He is bothered, however, by the contraction that immediately follows.

    Once it passes, Sam says, “Okay, Cas, you may want to try to get some sleep before it gets bad. It’ll probably be more than a couple of hours before you’re ready to push, and you’re going to be pretty tired by then, man.”

    “Thank you, Sam,” Cas says.

    “Hours? Really?” Dean asks anxiously. “Are you sure?”

    “There’s a chance it may go faster due to all the magic we’ve used, but it’ll still be a while,” Sam says.

    “If it’s anything like Kelly Kline’s was, it’ll be another five hours at least,” Rowena says. “Shorter than a human birth, but it’ll still take some time. But if it makes you feel better, you can monitor how far they are apart to be certain. Five minutes between is when we’ll want to start paying closer attention.”

 

    Cas manages to sleep through the first four hours, aided by a small bit of magic. Dean helps Rowena and Sam prepare for the delivery and tries not to hover too much, knowing that it’ll only fuel the worry that is worming around in his gut.

    He’s thankfully in the room when Cas is finally woken up by a particularly intense contraction. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, Cas,” he says reassuringly as Cas has a brief moment of disorientation. “That looks like a rough one.”

    “Yes,” Cas growls after he regains his bearings. “This is much stronger than before.”

    From then on, Cas stays awake. His labor had progressed at about the speed Rowena had estimated, and the contractions were about six minutes apart by the time he woke up. They were much stronger, too, and Rowena and Sam cast some spells to help soften the pain. Cas was doing remarkably well and at the very least, appeared to be much calmer than Dean was. Over the next half hour, the time between contractions dwindled down to about four minutes.

    “Very good,” Rowena says as Cas soldiers his way through another one. “We’re in the final stretch now, boys. It shouldn’t be another hour or two before the wee little one is here.” She gives Cas a sly grin. “I hope you have a good name picked out.”

    Cas opens his mouth to respond, but at that very moment, the Bunker’s door squeaks open and slams shut. Sam and Dean instantly exchange looks and prep their weapons.

    “It’s probably Mom,” Sam says unsurely. “The door was locked and she’s the only one outside of us that has a key.”

    “Right. We would have heard if someone was trying to pick the lock,” Dean reasons. The brothers blink at each other, communicating wordlessly, and they step into the hall together with their guns locked and loaded.

    All the many years of facing down monsters, ghosts, ghouls, and everything else that goes “bump” in the night could not prepare Dean for the shock he feels as he turns the corner and runs directly into another person. As soon as they make contact, he leaps back, gun aimed towards their chest. A second later, he lowers it. “Mom?” he exclaims.

    “Whoa,” Sam says, settling at Dean’s side. “What the hell happened?”

    Mary is pretty bloodied up. There’s a sizeable gash on her forehead, big enough for the blood to have run down her face and nearly reach her chin. There’s also a decent bruise on the side of her jaw. Judging by the deep colors, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if a tooth or two were knocked loose.

    “Where have you boys been? I tried calling _five times_!”

    “And who—?” Dean starts at the same time, but cuts himself off.

    “The British Men of Letters,” she snaps, responding to Dean’s incomplete question.

    “We weren’t looking at our phones; Cas is—” Sam stops, brain catching up to his mouth. “Wait, the Men of Letters? Do they _know_?”

    “ _Yes_ ,” Mary says. “And they’re coming right now. You boys have five minutes, tops. I was lucky to get away at all to warn you. You need to grab Castiel and go. _Now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit shit shit! That's not good!
> 
>  
> 
> Shifting gears, I have some real-life exciting news: I'm totally finished writing! That means all that's left for me to do is edit my work and get it beta'd, and these next few updates will come super quick. Thanks for sticking around on this wild ride! Now we can all just sit back, relax, and enjoy the rest of the story :)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

_ The British are coming, the British are coming, _ mocks an evil little voice in Dean’s head. He buries his face in his hands and rubs at his eyes furiously, trying to clear his head of the jumble of thoughts and emotions that come flying forth. “Okay, uh…Cas can’t be moved. So we gotta figure out something else, and fast.”

    “Dean,” Mary says firmly. “I know you were hoping that Cas could give birth here before they came, but we’ll have to regroup later and figure it out. Right now, the priority is—”

    “No, Mom,” Sam says. “Cas literally  _ can’t _ be moved. He’s in labor. That’s why we didn’t pick up the phone.”

    Mary’s eyes widen. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “For real?”

    “Yeah,” Dean says. “And pretty far along, too. Rowena is getting him ready for delivery.”

    “Shit.  _ Shit _ ,” she repeats.

    “We’ll just have to defend him here,” Sam says, though the way he anxiously smooths back his hair suggests that smooth tone of his voice may be a façade. “It’s okay. How many are we talking?”

    “T-too many,” Mary stammers as she takes stock of the situation. “Umm, thirteen, I think,” she says with glazed eyes as she tries to count them in her head. “Plus Ketch and Mick. I know you said Mick is on our side, but we can’t count on that, especially with Ketch there.”

    “Okay, well, we’ll have to fight. We’ve been outnumbered before,” Dean says.

    “Yeah, but not like this,” Sam says. “This isn’t a normal fight where the whole turf is fair game. If any of them get to Cas…”

    “Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaims. He knows Sam is right.

    “Look, if we  _ can _ get him out of here, our chances will be better,” Sam says. “They’ll have to search the whole Bunker before they realize he’s not here. By then, he’ll be long gone and they’ll have to regroup. If any of them are left standing.”

    “Dean? Sam?” Cas rounds the corner, supported by Rowena. “Mary?”

    Rowena says, “I tried to stop him, but—”

    “What’s going on?” Cas demands. “Are the Men of Letters here?”

    Dean wishes he could tell Cas not to worry, that everything would be alright, but he knows he can’t. “Yeah, Cas. I’m so sorry.”

    Cas plows forward, taking no time to lament their bad luck. “What’s the plan?”

    “Tunnel escape,” Sam says. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. We get you out of here, and the rest of us stay to fight.”

    “So, the question is, who is going and who is staying to fight?” Rowena asks.

    “Mom, you should definitely fight if you feel up to it. You know their tactics better than any of us,” Sam reasons.

    “You’re right; we need a good strategy. Brute force isn’t going to cut it,” Mary says. “We need all the magic we can get, too. Rowena and Sam should stay or we won’t stand a chance.”

    “So Dean will come with me,” Cas says through gritted teeth. He leans heavily on Rowena as he works through another contraction. 

    “What? No way,” Dean says. “Cas, I gotta stay here and protect you.”

    “And what? Miss the birth of your child? Possibly not even be alive to see it?”

    Dean is taken aback at Cas’s harsh words, even though he knows the pain is adding an extra bite to them. “What? No, Cas, if they get to you… I can’t let them hurt you. Or the baby.”

    “Dean, I—I can’t,” Cas gasps. “Look at me. I’m not strong enough to walk through the tunnels alone. Please. I need you.”

    The door resounds with a giant  _ thud _ that echoes through the entire Bunker. It stays closed and intact, but Dean knows that won’t be the case for long.

    “Well that can’t be a good sign,” Rowena remarks after a moment.

    “Make up your mind and get Cas out of here,” Mary says. “It won’t take them more than two minutes to get through that door.”

    “The magical enhancements Sam and I made to the security will buy us some time, but not much,” Rowena explains, glancing over to Mary.

    “I’m going with you,” Dean says quickly, taking Cas’s weight from Rowena. “Let’s get gone.”

    Sam quickly helps them to pull together a few things they’ll need while Rowena reinforces the Bunker’s protective spells and explains to Mary what each of them will do. In the next few moments, a small backpack is filled with medical supplies, towels, various charms and herbs, and most importantly, the box of Cas’s artificial grace. Dean shrugs it on as Sam rushes out of the room to get ready for the fight.

    Dean helps Cas out of the room a bit more slowly. Down the hall, he can see and hear as Sam and Rowena speak to one another.

    “Are you ready?” Rowena asks. She twiddles the fingers of one hand nervously. The sparks of raw power that fly out from her fingertips are the only thing reassuring Dean at the moment.

    “Honestly, no,” Sam laughs, despite all the preparations they’ve undergone.

    “Me either,” she admits. Silence hangs in the air for a few long seconds. She bounces on her heels nervously. “Sam,” she finally says with resolve.

    “What?”

    She grasps the collar of his shirt with both hands, yanks him down to her level, and firmly presses her lips against his. For a moment, Sam looks more shocked than Dean feels to be witnessing this, but he quickly takes it in stride. He lifts Rowena off the ground and closes his eyes, leaning further into the kiss as she wraps her legs around him. Dean grows embarrassed, feeling like an unintentional peeper from his vantage point down the hall. He averts his eyes, instead looking at Cas, who sports the smallest smile at this progression in their relationship, clearly unbothered by the steaminess of the kiss.

    By time Dean looks back at them, they’ve parted, though not without swollen lips and pink cheeks. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Rowena says, her voice pitched down a few steps from its normal range.

    “Me, too. You have no idea.” Sam has a grin half the size of his face. He turns sheepishly towards Dean and Cas. “Uh, sorry about that, you guys.”

    “Yeah, well, you better fight good after _ that _ ,” Dean snickers. “Both of you.” He quickly sobers up as there’s a crash from the Bunker entryway. A second later, they are bathed in red light, and the Bunker alarms begin to sound.

    “They’re in,” Rowena says. “The protective spells will only delay them a moment longer!”

    “Okay,” Dean says. He and Cas stand in the doorway to room seventeen. “Be careful.”

    “Same to you.” Sam says with a furrowed brow. “Love you guys. Stay safe,” he finishes quickly, not willing to leave the dangerous and rarely used “l-word” by itself.

    “Yeah. You, too,” Dean says, making sure to make eye contact with not only Sam, but Rowena as well in the hopes that she will understand the full extent of his gratitude to her.

    She smiles at him briefly before turning back to Sam. She grabs his hand. “Let’s go,” she says, and pulls him out of Dean’s sightline. Dean allows his gaze to linger just a moment more before he and Cas hurry into the room.

    He presses down the brick and the door swings open. “Get in,” he says to Cas. Cas goes, much slower without Dean’s help, but still managing to make it. Dean pushes the file cabinet in front of the odd brick in the hopes that the Men of Letters won’t realize they know about the existence of the tunnels.

    He steps inside and turns back around. “ _ Restore _ ,” he whispers, casting one of the few spells that Rowena and Sam had insisted on arming him with. Instantly, the patch of clean floor and additional footprints disappear, replaced by the thin layer of dust that covers the rest of the room. Dean turns away, and the door closes behind him.

    “You can still crawl, right?” Dean asks. 

    “Yes,” Cas answers.

    “Okay, you first,” Dean says, swinging open the gate to the tunnel entrance. He helps Cas down onto his hands and knees and follows behind.

    Once they are clear, he moves to help Cas up. “Wait,” Cas grunts, dipping his head.

    “Another contraction?” Dean asks. Cas nods wordlessly. Dean squats down beside him and rubs his back.

    “ _ Minuere totalem!”  _ he hears Sam and Rowena shout as a single unit, and he thinks he can almost feel the power wash over him, even from inside the tunnels. He smiles, knowing it’ll slow the British Men of Letters down at least a little bit.

    After what Dean thinks is close to a minute, Cas says “Okay,” and allows Dean to help him to his feet.

    “You good?” Dean asks.

    “Let’s get moving,” Cas responds, ignoring Dean’s question. He begins to walk.

    “O-okay,” Dean says, caught off guard, but not wanting to press the matter.

    They reach the first split. Unexpectedly, they bump into each other, each trying to go into a different branch. 

    “Umm, what are you doing?” Dean asks, shocked that Cas would try to take the left: the more difficult path.

    “I could ask you the same,” Cas says. “This way is the quickest.”

    “Cas, you’re in  _ active labor _ . Don’t you think we should go the easier way?”

    “That’s at least a forty minute walk. Compared to what will be fifteen at most. It doesn’t make any sense to go through the middle.”

    Dean notes how much of his weight Cas is pouring into him, as well as the thin layer of sweat on his brow. “No, you’re exhausted. This is a ‘slow and steady wins the race’ kind of situation we’re dealing with here. You’ll never make it down the harder path. Look, if it takes forty minutes, it takes forty minutes. We’ll be fine.”

    “Dean, I don’t think I  _ have _ forty minutes left,” Cas says. He leans into Dean’s side, a hand on his hip to keep himself stable. “My contractions are already about four minutes apart, probably less. The last thing we want is for the baby to come while we’re stuck in these tunnels.”

    Dean sucks in a breath, struggling with the decision of what to do next. “Okay. You’re sure?”

    “Yes,” Cas says, and so they start down the left path together.

    They make it up the first set of stairs. They move slowly, but reach the top without incident. They turn the corner and take the second flight of stairs. By the end, Cas is a bit winded, but he makes it to the last step.

    They reach the last fork in the path, and turn the corner, coming face-to-face with the first of five platforms that will lead them closer to the exit.

    “Okay, how the hell are we gonna do this?” Dean asks. He doesn’t think Cas is of a size where he can be pulled up onto the chest-high platform anymore, and being in labor is definitely not going to help him.

    Still, Cas insists, “The same way we’ve always done it.” He steps up to the platform, ready to push himself up in preparation for Dean to lift him the rest of the way, but his belly creates much more of an obstacle than it did two months ago. “Oh.” He turns to Dean. “I need a boost. Kneel down.”

    “Cas, I don’t think —”

    “Just do it.”

    Dean takes off the backpack, kneels down, and turns himself into a step for Cas, who manages to clear his belly over the edge of the platform, but not anything else. “Dean,” he says in a strained voice, his arms trembling with the effort of holding up his body plus the weight of the baby.

    “Coming.” He leaps to his feet and pushes himself onto the platform. He turns, links his arms under Cas’s, and pulls. Cas walks his feet up the wall of the platform and finally comes to stand on top, breathless.

    “This isn’t going to work,” he gasps.

    “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Dean chides lightly with a subtle roll of his eyes, but he doesn’t want to be too hard on Cas for obvious reasons. “Let’s get to the other side of this thing and we’ll figure it out.” He jumps down and looks back at Cas. “Okay, sit on the edge, and I’ll lift you down.”

    Cas awkwardly arranges himself into a sitting position. Dean grabs him under the arms again and guides him to the floor.

    They walk to the next one. Cas crosses his arms up on top of it. “Okay, I think I’ve got an idea,” Dean says, but Cas’s head drops to his arms with a moan and he leans into the platform. “Cas?”

    “Need a moment.”

    Dean doesn’t need to ask this time to know that Cas is having another contraction. “Okay.” He moves to rub Cas’s back, but his hand is slapped away.

    “Don’t touch me,” Cas snaps.

    Dean tries not to feel hurt at that and backs away, giving Cas his space. Cas rides out the contraction alone, letting out little grunts of pain interspersed with labored breathing.

    “You good?” Dean asks as the pain seems to subside.

    “I’m ready,” Cas says, once again avoiding answering the question directly. “What’s your plan?”

    “Do you think you could get all the way up with a better boost?”

    Cas considers it. “Maybe.”

    “I’m gonna give you a little more momentum,” Dean says. “Should help a bit.” He locks his fingers together and brings them a bit below knee-level, but even then, Cas struggles to get his foot up, the top of his leg colliding with his belly. Dean lowers his hands a bit more and then guides Cas’s foot back up. “Ready?” Cas nods. “One, two, three!”

    On “three,” he raises his hands as Cas steps, giving him a bit of extra height. Cas manages to get his other knee up onto the platform, and he successfully climbs on top.

    “Feeling good?” Dean asks.

    “Not exactly,” Cas says, “but I think this is the easiest it’s going to get.”

    They get Cas up and down the remaining platforms. After descending from the last one, he leans his back against it, dropping the back of his head onto the top of it as he rides through another contraction.

    “Cas?” Dean asks this time, hand reaching forwards to make his intentions clear. Cas pushes his own hand out in an obvious gesture for Dean to stay back, so Dean respectfully (and reluctantly) keeps his distance.

    Once the contraction is done, Cas is still winded, and seems unable to continue right away. “Can you make it?” Dean asks, unable to stop himself despite knowing the question isn’t helpful.

    “Of course. I just need time,” Cas says breathlessly.

    Dean huffs, scrunching his face and bringing a hand to his forehead. “Cas,” he sighs in exasperation. “What the hell are we doing, man? You’re barely standing. We should have gone the other way.”

    “I can make it, Dean. I  _ have _ to make it for her.” He pushes himself up and turns the last corner. Dean follows.

    Dean slides his hand down his face, putting their disagreement aside for a moment as they come up to the mouth of the pipe that will bring them to the exit. “Okay, um. Rowena’s alarm spells haven’t gone on for the tunnels, so we know we’re still the only ones in here. But there’s always a chance they might be waiting for us at the other end. So I’m gonna go first, okay?”

    Cas nods his approval and Dean crawls in first, gun uncocked but ready in his hand.

    It doesn’t take long for Dean to sense that Cas is falling behind. He looks over his shoulder and sees that Cas’s face is shiny with sweat. He waits for him to catch up, but not without an annoyed breath of air.

    “What?” Cas asks gruffly.

    “This was dumb, Cas,” Dean says, trying and failing to be gentle. “You’re downright exhausted. Are you even going to be strong enough when it comes time to push?”

    “That doesn’t matter,” Cas says stubbornly.

    “Doesn’t matter? The hell are you talking about, man? This is serious, Cas. You could die.”

    “It  _ doesn’t matter _ ,” Cas insists. “They can’t get to her. I need to make sure she’s safe. It’s my duty.”

    The words stop Dean in his tracks. He turns once more to look at Cas. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” He starts crawling again, the end of the pipe drawing near. He shakes his head angrily. “Your fucking duty.”

    “Oh, is there something more important than our daughter?” Cas asks drily. “Please, enlighten me.”

    “It’s not that. It’s  — it’s. Ugh.” Dean doesn’t know how to put it into words. “First it’s your ‘duty’ to Heaven. Now it’s your ‘duty’ to our child. There’s always some kind of complex with you, Cas, and no matter how valiant the cause, it’s this ridiculous sense of self-sacrifice. Just… whatever happened to your duty to  _ yourself _ ?”

    “You really want to talk about complexes and self-sacrifice with me?” Cas grunts. “Mr. ‘I Have To Protect You.’”

    “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

    “That you seem to think you have some kind of inane ‘responsibility’ to keep me safe. And our daughter. And Sam, and your mother, and Rowena, and pretty much anyone you’ve ever cared about. And you would throw yourself into the fray with no regard for yourself or how it affects others—”

    “—Are we really doing this?” Dean asks. He’s at the end of the smaller pipe now and he scrambles out into the sun and turns back around so he can yell at Cas directly in his stupid face. His stupid, beautiful, wonderful face that Dean is very angry at right now.

    “Yes, we are. Because no matter how much you love me, you need to realize that not every little thing that happens to me is your responsibility, Dean! Sometimes things just happen!”

    “Well maybe you could try taking a bit of your own advice and —”

    “—Dean—”

    “—No, Cas, I’m not done. You could—”

    “—Dean!” It takes Dean a moment to overcome his anger and realize that Cas’s face is the picture of panic.

    “Cas?” he exclaims, ducking his head back into the pipe. “What’s wrong?”

    Cas seems to be having another contraction, but something else is happening; it has to be, judging by Cas’s frantic look.

    “I’m stuck. I can’t get through, I—I can’t.” Cas looks wildly around, breath hitching as it gets faster and faster.

    “Cas. Cas, hey! Calm down,” Dean says, taking his hand and immediately forgetting about their disagreement. “You’re not stuck, just breathe and stop freaking out.” But Cas reaches out and tries to pull himself forward. “Stop! Stop it, man; if you do that, you  _ will  _ get stuck. Just breathe. Come on.” Cas stops struggling and his breaths slow down. “That’s right. Deep breaths. You’ve got this.”

    Cas breathes through the contraction. It seems to be longer and harder than the previous ones, but eventually he comes out of it.

    “Okay,” Dean says, letting Cas take a few more deep breaths. “Can you back up?”

    It seems to be the wrong thing to say. “Dean, we can’t go back, there isn’t enough time—!”

    “Hey, we’re not going all the way back. Just a few inches, okay?” Cas nods and scoots himself back, his eyes wide and scared, but ultimately trusting. “Now turn sideways.”

    “What?”

    “Look, this pipe is all wonky. It’s wider than it is tall. Just turn on your side and I’ll pull you out.”

    “Oh.” He does as he’s told. Dean grasps his arms and easily pulls him out the rest of the way into the larger pipe.

    They take a moment to compose themselves. “That contraction was closer, wasn’t it?” Dean asks first, knowing that it’s the easiest subject for them to confront before the other, more personal issues.

    “Yes,” Cas says, “only about two minutes apart. I think I’m almost at the point where I need to push.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably, sitting back on his heels and arching his back so that his belly nearly brushes the floor of the pipe.

    “Let’s get you out of here.” He helps Cas out of the pipe and then runs a hand down his face, wondering where the hell they go from here.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :O


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “I’m sorry,” Dean says, figuring that clearing the air is the best place to start. “You’re right, Cas. I’m just worried all the time about you and our baby. And with how this pregnancy started… I do feel like it’s my responsibility. Like I gotta protect you. I don’t know,” he finishes, looking away in embarrassment.

    “I’m sorry, too,” Cas says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know it may seem that I am always putting something above you, even when I care about you more than anyone else in the world.”

    “I know you feel the need to prove yourself, Cas. But I promise you, you don’t. You can just  _ be here _ , man. That’s what I want from you the most.” He slides an arm around Cas and Cas leans into him.

    “And you don’t have anything to prove to me, either,” Cas reminds him. “You know that everything that happened between us has been forgiven. I know you didn’t mean to abandon me, and in a way, I abandoned you as well. You don’t have to make up for that, Dean. You’ve already done that, and more.”

    Dean smiles, feeling much more at peace, even with the impending birth. “So we’re good?”

    “I’m… afraid you were right about one more thing.” Suddenly, Dean is bearing even more of Cas’s weight. “I can’t make it. I don’t think I can walk any further.”

    “I’ll carry you,” Dean says.

    “I’m heavy,” Cas warns.

    “I know,” Dean says, chuckling. “But we’re gonna make it out of this, Cas. All three of us.” With that, he scoops Cas into his arms. Cas is heavy with the baby’s weight in addition to his already tall, muscular body, but Dean is thankfully strong and very determined they make it to their destination.

    The walk takes about three minutes and Cas has another contraction during that time. Dean wishes that there was something he could do to ease the pain, but all he can do is hold Cas a little tighter and allow Cas to squeeze hard on the lapels of his shirt in order to keep from crying out.

    “Okay, we’re almost good,” he says as they reach the cave. He puts Cas down, and Cas leans heavily against the side of the cave. “Let me set you up real quick with something to lie on, okay?” Cas nods, too worn out to speak. Dean hurries to pile up sleeping bags and towels in order to give Cas at least a little bit of a soft surface. “I’m so sorry it’s not something better,” he says, but Cas is happy to get off his feet and collapse onto the makeshift mattress inside the cave.

    Dean grabs their water filters and runs down to the stream, not wanting to have to leave Cas’s side for water later in the delivery. Cas is starting to look at least a little bit better when Dean gets back, but he’s still breathing heavily and sweating like crazy.

    “How much longer you think?” Dean asks.

    “Not long,” Cas groans. “I’m going to have to push soon.”

    “Okay.” Inside, Dean is in full panic mode, but he knows he has to at least act calm for Cas’s sake. He brings his hand gently to the side of Cas’s face and strokes his cheek. “You’re gonna be all right. Let’s get you ready.” He helps Cas out of his pants and underpants and covers him with a blanket, but not before checking to see how far along Cas is. He gulps, feeling slightly squeamish. “Yup. Almost ready to push I think.”

    Cas nods. “I can feel it,” he gasps. His hand rubs circles on the large swell of his stomach, now sitting lower in his abdomen than before.

    Dean continues to set up for the birth, but frequently glances up to make sure Cas is all right. Between contractions he seems to be doing well, but it feels like every contraction gets worse and worse. He hopes that this will all be over soon. It’s hard to see Cas is so much pain.

    Another contraction comes and this time, Cas reaches for Dean’s hand, squeezing it hard. “You got this, buddy. Come on.” He rubs Cas’s back comfortingly as Cas growls in pain. He lets out a small cry. “Shh,” Dean whispers in his ear, trying to keep him as quiet as possible so they are not discovered.

    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

    “Yes, you can,” Dean murmurs. “I know it’s hard. I got you.”

    Cas moans again, this time more quietly, and he leans his head into Dean’s arm. After about a minute, the pain lets up, and Cas gasps for breath. “Oh.  _ Oh,” _ he says, pressing his hand against the lowest part of his belly.

    “Are you okay?” Dean demands.

    “Yes. Yes, I can just feel that she’s shifted.” His face scrunches, and he shifts himself to be a bit more upright. “I don’t think I can hold on much longer. I have to push.”

    “Not quite yet, buddy. I can’t tell for sure if it’s time yet.” Cas looks crestfallen. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

    “I know, Dean. I’ll wait a little longer if I can. But I don’t think I’ll have much of a choice soon. I think this baby is coming  _ now _ .”

    Dean scrubs his face, overwhelmed. He’s done his research, but he doesn’t have the same kind of knowledge that Sam and Rowena have. He’s terrified that he’ll allow Cas to push too soon, or not soon enough, or that something else will go wrong. It doesn’t help that he has no idea whether Sam, Rowena, and Mary are even still alive, or whether Ketch and the others may still find them and hurt Cas and their baby.

    The crunching of leaves outside startles him back into alertness. “Shit!” he whispers, lunging in front of Cas, scrabbling for his gun, and aiming it just in time.

    “It’s just me,” Rowena hisses, her hands raised. “Don’t shoot!”

    Dean breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank god. Cas thinks he’s ready to push. Can you—?”

    “On it.” She kneels down next to him and pulls up the blanket to check his progress. Dean can see that she’s a little bruised up and very dirty, but otherwise unharmed.

    Dean grows worried however, as he realizes that Rowena is alone, nobody trailing behind. “Where’s Sam? And Mom?”

    “Both alive,” she says, and that’s a satisfying answer enough for him until she finishes with Cas. “Ah,” she says. “Yes. You’re ready to push, love!”

    “Finally,” Cas moans, shoulders sagging a bit.

    Rowena covers him back up and settles in at his side. “You’re doing well,” she purrs, and squeezes his shoulder.

    “So, they’re doing okay?” When Rowena nods, Dean can breathe a little easier. “That’s good. What happened back there?” he asks, now that he can focus on worrying about Sam and Mom instead. “Where are the others?”

    “They’re all fine. Your mother has a broken leg, but she’ll be fine.” She sighs. “It was a close one. A hard battle. The spells Sam and I cast did a good job at slowing them down, but we still had to fight most of them hand-to-hand. Somehow in the chaos of it all, Ketch managed to escape. I don’t know where he is now.”

    “Good to know,” Dean says. Although Ketch’s escape isn’t good news, he’s glad to know where they stand. “Is he injured at least?”

    She shrugs. “I think we gave him a few good bumps and bruises that will slow him down, but not much more than that. He was practically using the others as human shields.”

    Cas nods, breathing heavily but still coherent. “And what about the others? Are they dead? And what about Mick?”

    “Some dead, some incapacitated. Ketch was the only one to escape. Mick turned against the other Men of Letters fairly early on. He fought well, but took a pretty bad bump to the head and got knocked unconscious. He likely has a concussion. After the fight, Sam left first, and I moved both Mick and your mother to one of the bedrooms. She’s fully armed and ready to take down Ketch if he shows back up again, even with her broken leg. I left her with two guns and a particularly nasty hex bag should she need it.”

    “Wait, Sam left  _ first _ ?” Dean asks, alarmed. “Why isn’t he here then?”

    “I took the narrowest path, which you’ll remember is also the fastest? He shouldn’t be too much longer, only a minute or so.”

    So they wait for Sam and tend to Cas. But time drags on, and Sam doesn’t show. Thirty minutes pass by without any sign of him, and Cas’s contractions get worse and worse. Rowena coaches him gently through them and Dean offers moral support, but he finds himself getting more and more anxious over both Sam’s and Cas’s conditions.

    “Are you sure he’s okay?” Dean asks of Cas. He is sweating profusely and he’s having a harder and harder time staying quiet.

    Rowena’s brow wrinkles. “He’s fine,” she says. “Unfortunately, pain  _ is _ part of the process.”

    “Is this normal though?”

    “This is  _ mild _ ,” she insists. “Especially for a hybrid birth,  _ especially _ from a male vessel. I’ve seen much worse, dear, even from births that were relatively low-risk.”

    “Like whose?” Dean demands, unwilling to accept that the pain Cas is experiencing could be better than normal.

    “Like  _ mine _ ,” she responds evenly, and his mouth snaps shut. “What? I didn’t yet have magic; there was certainly no medical help in those days, not like there is now and none at all if you didn’t have the money, which I did  _ not _ have at the time. I gave birth by myself on a straw mat with nothing and no one to assist me. Not to mention that I’ve always been a wee little scrap of a thing. These aren’t exactly prime birthing hips—”

    “Okay! That’s—I don’t need to know any more,” Dean says, flushing from head to toe. “Can you do anything or not?”

    “Aye, I could ease the pain with another spell. But it may cause you to be less sharp,” she says, addressing Cas directly. “I know you’re in no condition to do much of anything right now, but should Ketch come, I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”

    “I don’t need it,” Cas grunts. “I’m fine.” He looks up at Dean. “Really, Dean. I’ll be okay.”

    Dean knows better than to argue and honestly, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea either to get Cas so medically drugged up that he’s not fully alert.

    Another contraction hits. It looks rough, but Cas does seem to be taking it well enough. Dean offers both his hands to squeeze, and Rowena alternates between stroking his hair and rubbing his belly soothingly.

    “Ah!” Toward the end of it, Cas is unable to keep himself from crying out. Dean wrenches a hand away and slaps it over his mouth.

    “Sorry,” he whispers, feeling terrible for what he just did, but Cas nods knowingly from behind Dean’s hand. Too much noise could alert Ketch; since he’s out there somewhere, it’s more imperative than ever that they stay as quiet as possible.

    “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Cas murmurs once the contraction passes. “Rowena,” he pants, “how much longer do you think it’ll be?”

    She ducks under the blanket to check his progress again. “She’s nearly crowning,” she whispers. “It really shouldn’t be long at all now.”

    Dean smiles, pushing down all his worries in order to cheer up Cas. “You ready for us to be parents?”

    “Mmmph. Very. I just want to hold her in my arms finally. I don’t like being pregnant.”

    “I know.” Dean leans over and kisses his forehead. “You’ve been a trouper.”

    Cas purses his lips and then asks the question that Dean has been trying not to think too hard about. “And what about Sam?”

    Dean shakes his head, and looks over to Rowena for answers. She seems equally concerned and saddened by the question, her brow forming a deep crease once Dean makes eye contact.

    “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “He should have been here by now.” She buries her face in her hands. “I should have gone with him.”

    “Hey, no,” Dean reassures her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We really needed you here fast. I’m sure Sam will be fine.”

    She sniffs. “He does have one large advantage over Ketch: magic,” she reasons but she looks unconvinced, just as Dean is feeling as well underneath all the bravado.

    Just then, there is a crunch of leaves that can’t be more than a couple of yards away. “That must be him,” she cries. “Sam!”

    She pulls aside the tarp they glued leaves to in order to disguise the mouth of the cave. Through the gap, Dean can see Sam, but he can instantly tell from his expression that something is wrong. He quickly sees why once Rowena pulls the tarp further over.

    Sam’s hands are tied behind his back, and holding a knife to his throat is none other than Arthur Ketch.

    “Hello, lads,” Ketch says, forcing Sam to take another step forward. “Shall we talk?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Sam! Is he going to be okay?


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    “Sam,” Rowena whispers, but she stays totally still along with Dean and Cas. They all know that any sudden move could mean Sam’s death.

    “What is there to talk about?” Dean asks. “You’re here to kill Cas and the baby, aren’t you?”

    “Oh, yes. The angel will die, as well as that…thing,” Ketch answers. “The witch, too. But that’s not the sole reason I’m here, no. Do you really think you could take down thirteen of my men without me allowing it?” Dean looks uneasily over to Rowena, who has much the same expression as she looks back at him. “I’ll take out those abominations since I’m here, but the real reason I came is that little box of grace you have tucked into your pocket.” Dean brings his hand up to his pocket, feeling the outline of the mentioned item. “That’s powerful magic. Well done,” Ketch says to Rowena, and she glares daggers back at him, mentally stabbing every inch of his body with her eyes. Violently. “Listen, there’s no sense in losing your brother as well,” he says to Dean. “Give me the grace, and I’ll at least let you and him live.”

    “Don’t do it, Dean,” Sam grits through his teeth.

    “Not a chance,” Dean says, even though he’s itching to bargain anything and everything for Sam. It’s possible that Cas is far enough into labor that he will no longer need the grace. But he knows that’s a risk he doesn’t want to take. It’s hard to say exactly what the odds are, but he thinks they have a better chance of fighting Ketch.

    “Wait!” Rowena cries, and Dean can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “Give him the grace.”

    “What? No! Are you crazy?” Dean asks.

    Rowena lunges for his pocket and grabs the box before he can fully react.

    “Dean. Let her,” Cas says as Dean scrambles to get it back. “I’ll be okay.” Dean looks wildly over to Cas, then back at Rowena.

    He finally realizes through shared looks with each of them that this is not going to be a straightforward exchange. He’s not sure exactly what they’re going to do, but Rowena has a plan. And even though he’s in the dark about what the plan  _ is _ , he’s willing to let her try.

    “Please! Don’t!” he cries, turning away from Ketch to give Rowena a wink of permission. She gets up and stalks bravely towards Ketch. “Rowena!”

    Once she’s fully facing Ketch, Dean sees why she needed the box. Her fingers, hidden from view, are moving, weaving some kind of spell. After a few seconds, the knife in Ketch’s hand starts to glow.

    “Ah!” He tries to keep hold of the knife, but it wiggles out of his hand and falls to the ground.

    “Sam, now!” Rowena cries, but Sam doesn’t move.

    Ketch shakes his hand, smiling grimly despite the bright red blisters. “Did you really think the only control I had over him would be a knife? You lot really are naive.”

    Rowena slides the box of grace into her pocket. “ _ Abi! _ ” she says, trying something different, but Ketch doesn’t fly into the air as expected. In fact, he doesn’t budge at all.

    “Ah, you may be able to make a knife burn hot, but those tricks won’t work on  _ me _ ,” he says, pulling aside the collar of his shirt to reveal an odd tattoo on the side of his neck. Dean has never seen a design like it before, but he’d bet money on it being some kind of anti-witchcraft protection symbol. “I’m afraid I’m two steps ahead—”

    It turns out Ketch is not as ahead as he thinks he is. Rowena takes advantage of his overconfidence to rush out of the cave at him and punch him in the nose. He stumbles back, blood pouring from a nose that is almost definitely broken.

    “Oh, you’ll regret that,” he growls, but Rowena isn’t regretting anything. She meets him with a solid kick to the stomach, made extra painful by her stiletto heels.

    Dean looks at Cas in alarm, not knowing whether to join the fray or stay at Cas’s side. “Go,” Cas tells him without Dean even having to ask the question. “I’ll be fine.”

    Rowena starts toward Ketch again, but this time he grabs her firmly by the shoulders. Luckily, Dean is there to tackle him aside. He’s relieved to get Ketch further away from the cave and further away from Cas, but the feeling is short lived. He catches a glance of Sam, standing stiff like some kind of soldier.

    “Sam, wake up!” he shouts.

    By now, Sam has broken free of the ropes binding his wrists. But when he comes forward, he doesn’t come to help Dean and Rowena. Instead he walks towards Rowena and grabs her. Her legs pedal around in the air as she tries to escape his grasp. “Sam, stop!” Sam looks like he’s on the verge of tears, but he can’t seem to do anything to break free of whatever hold Ketch has on him. Rowena whips her head around to Dean and shrieks, “He’s under some kind of control!”

    Dean starts over to help Rowena, but is bowled over by Ketch before he can get there. Once on the ground, he swings at Ketch, but Ketch blocks it with ease, kneels at his side, and begins to choke him. Dean tries desperately to push him off, but he doesn’t have the leverage, and all he can feel is the crushing sensation of Ketch’s hands around his throat and the way his lungs scream for air. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to concentrate despite the lack of oxygen to his brain. Above him, Ketch swings his leg over to straddle him. In a last ditch effort, Dean swings his knee up, hard, and makes contact.

    Ketch groans and rolls off of him, cupping his hand over his groin, and Dean can’t help but smile in satisfaction at where his blow landed, even as he fights for air. He coughs and rises to his feet, feeling a little woozy, and tries to regain his bearings. Ketch stumbles into an upright position as well, but not quick enough. Dean grabs him by the lapels and throws him back onto the ground. As he lands, a small, round object falls out of his pocket, and Dean realizes with a jolt that it’s a hex bag. Both he and Ketch lunge for it at the same time, but Dean is able to elbow him in the face and grab onto it, even if Ketch is back on him a moment later.

    “Rowena!” Dean calls.

    Rowena has managed to break out of Sam’s hold and is now desperately trying to dodge his attacks while returning as few as possible. “What?” she hollers, diving out of the way as Sam throws a punch.

    “Hex bag!” He throws it at her. Ketch grabs for his arm, but it’s too late. The hex bag veers slightly off course, making it to the ground near Rowena’s feet.

    It’s close enough for her to work with. “ _ Urere! _ ” The hex bag bursts into flames, and Sam gasps, finally in control of his own body again.

    “I’m so sorry,” Dean can hear Sam say in the background, but Ketch now has the upper hand on Dean, and he uses it to slam his head against the ground.

    “Oww.”

    Ketch flips him over and begins kicking him in the ribs. He cries out and rolls over, too dizzy and weak to rise to his feet.

    Thankfully, Sam and Rowena come to his rescue. After a moment, Ketch is fought back, and Sam grabs Dean firmly and helps him to his feet. Dean blinks out the stars in his eyes and is greeted by the sight of Rowena pummelling Ketch, hollering angrily all the while. “You lavvy-heided wankstain! You huffy wee fuckbumper! Awa’ you, and chew mah banger—!”

    Ketch manages to grab her wrist, and he slaps her across the face with his other hand. Sam and Dean rush at them, Dean pulling Rowena aside, and Sam finishing what she started with a series of blows. Ketch stumbles away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some kind of glowing charm before any of them can stop him.

    “Oh, bollocks.” As soon as Rowena sees what he’s holding, she looks at Sam and Dean with wild eyes, and begins to pull them away from Ketch, toward the cave. “Run!”

    But Ketch smashes the charm on the ground, and Dean instantly feels his entire body turn to jelly. He flops onto the ground, totally unable to move. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Rowena and Sam are in the same predicament.

    “It was a brilliant effort, you lot, but I’m afraid you’ve lost. Again,” Ketch says, pulling out his gun and polishing it on the left sleeve of his jacket. He begins to stalk toward Dean. “You, my friend, have been quite the thorn in my side.” All Dean can do is look up at him and flop around uselessly. Ketch looks down at him, thoughtful. “I think I’ll kill you first,” he says, raising his gun.

    Dean squeezes his eyes shut and hears a shot rings out. But he doesn’t feel a bullet pierce his body. His eyes snap open just in time to see Ketch fall, a bullet hole right between his eyes.

    He looks around for the source of the shot as Ketch’s body hits the ground, at least as much as his sleeping muscles allow.

    “Cas,” he gasps. Cas, still sitting against the cave wall, holds a smoking gun that he now lowers to his side.

    “I was waiting for a clean shot,” he grunts.

    Dean lets out a breath of relief. “You okay?” he asks, just to be sure.

    Cas returns the question. “Are  _ you? _ Should I come help, or—?”

    “No, no, we’re good. Just rest up.” The feeling is starting to return to his body, and he finds he can control his limbs with shaky movements. “Did that thing affect you, too?”

    “No, I’m fine. Dean, are you sure you’re all right?”

    “Just need a minute.” He looks over to Rowena in a jerky, uncontrolled movement. “What was that thing?”

    “Immobility charm. It only works at a very short range, but ‘tis powerful. Since we were a wee bit further away, we should be fine soon enough.”

    Sure enough, the numbness and shaky movements subside. Eventually, Dean rises to his feet and wobbles over to Cas, the others following close behind. He rubs at his sore ribs and swallows, trying to rid himself of the residual tightness in his throat, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, not when Cas is so incredibly close to giving birth. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rowena nursing a split lip, but they all seem to thankfully be in one piece, relatively. Despite their shakiness, they make it to the cave without incident. Sam settles himself by Cas’s head, giving him something else to lean on, Rowena down by his knees, and Dean in the middle.

    “Gah,” Cas chokes out, throwing his head back after they settle in.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “Everything hurts,” he says through gritted teeth. “Rowena, what do you see?”

    She pushes the blanket way up his thighs so it barely covers him, not bothering to stick her head under this time. “Don’t push anymore! She’s crowning!”

    “Don’t push?” he growls. “What do you mean don’t push?”

    “Just relax,” she instructs, squeezing his knee. “Let the contractions do the work. You’re almost there!”

    “Hey, Cas, you got this,” Dean says, leaning in to comfort him. Even through the pain, Cas smiles back at him.

    It doesn’t take long, only about half a minute before it’s time for someone to catch the baby. Cas is moaning in pain, but is still going strong, ready for the baby to be out of him. “Do the honors?” Rowena asks Dean, gesturing for him to take the baby as she comes out.

    “What? No, I—I wouldn’t know what to do,” he stammers, as much as he wants to be the first one to hold her.

    “I’ll help you,” Rowena says. And with her hands guiding his gently, he brings his daughter into the world.

    Cas cries out, but it’s more of a cry of relief than anything. And Dean is completely taken with the small little being in his arms.

    “Wow,” he whispers, as he finally holds her. She’s the most incredible thing he’s ever looked at, even with a cone-shaped head and wrinkly skin as newborn babies are prone to have. Her features are impossibly tiny. “She’s not crying,” he says in alarm. “Is she okay?”

    “Just a moment, dear.” Rowena leans over and clears the mucus around the baby’s nose and mouth. She suddenly coughs and begins to cry.

    “Cas. Cas!” Dean says excitedly, scooting over to show him the beautiful creature he’s made. “Look at her.”

    “She’s amazing,” Cas says, stroking her arm gently with the back of one finger. “I don’t even know what to say.”

    “How about you start by holding her?” Rowena asks. She moves up to his chest and unbuttons his shirt. “Skin-to-skin contact is good for her. Keep her here for a while. We’ll cut the cord in a few minutes.” She looks at Dean. “Did you bring formula?”

    “Yup, got a bottle right there in the backpack.” He gestures with his head in the general direction as he gently lays her on Cas’s chest. A moment later, he has a bottle of formula in his hand and he’s feeding her for the first time.

    “God, isn’t this incredible?” Dean asks. Cas reaches up and kisses him lightly on the lips in response.

    “She’s beautiful, you guys,” Sam says softly. “Congrats on being parents.”

    “Congrats on being an uncle,” Cas counters.

    “Ha! Uncle Sam!” Dean knows that his brother is sick of that joke, but even Sam is so caught up in euphoria that he grins dumbly.

    “So, does the wee little darling have a name?” Rowena asks. “Or will you be keeping us all in suspense?”

    Dean looks at Cas. “We goin’ with the one we talked about?”

    Cas nods. “Charlie.”

    Rowena shrugs and sighs jokingly. “At least she’s named after a redhead. Good choice, boys.”

    But Rowena hasn’t heard the full name yet. “Charlie  _ Rowan _ Winchester,” Dean announces.

    Her breath catches, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, her eyes begin to water. “I—I daren’t assume, but…?”

    “Yes, meant as a variation of ‘Rowena,’” Cas informs her. “For everything you’ve done to help us.”

    “And for being a part of our family,” Dean adds. “ _ And _ making that big lug over there happy,” he continues, nodding toward Sam.

    “Come ‘ere,” Sam says, arms open for her to curl up into. She accepts his invitation and kisses him passionately for the second time that day.

    “Hey, hey!” Dean says. “Not in front of my kid. She’s too young for that, only two minutes old. Don’t need you scarring her for life.”

    “She’ll be fine,” Rowena says, breaking away. “A little brown-haired girl named after not one but  _ two _ gingers? She’s going to be trouble. Are you both ready?”

    Dean and Cas exchange a long, happy look. “Readier than we’ve ever been,” Dean responds, confident that he’s speaking for the two of them.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwww
> 
> Thanks to all of you for sticking with me so long! Only one and a half chapters left until the end :')


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

    A month later, Dean and Cas are happily settling in as new dads. Charlie is happy, healthy, and more wonderful than either of them could have imagined. Every day that she smiles up at Dean, he finds himself falling more and more in love with her. And seeing Cas care for her so gently makes Dean fall in love with him more and more as well.

    After the attack by the Men of Letters, the angels decided that with that major threat eliminated, it was safe enough for Dean and Cas to finally take Jack into their care. The prospect of raising Jack had been a terrifying thought to Dean, in some ways even more of a worry than Charlie’s birth had been. The last thing that he wanted was to let his prejudices get in the way of giving Jack the home he deserved. After all, it was hard to let go of the fact that Lucifer was Jack’s biological father.

    But Dean needn’t have worried. It took less than a week of Jack living with them for Dean to be wrapped around his finger.  Dean was fully enamoured, and Cas was too. It didn’t take long at them at all to realize that in a manner of days, they already loved him like their own. He was just as much their son as Charlie was their daughter.

    Any worries of violent tendencies with Jack were totally baseless, as anyone can see that that’s not even the smallest part of the baby boy’s personality. He is sweet, gentle, and sleepy, he rarely ever cries, and he’s constantly reaching out a hand to grasp onto someone’s finger.

    Charlie is bright and happy. She’s not hugely fond of naps, preferring to be awake whenever her parents are, much to their dismay. Still, every moment with her is wonderful, even if that means they don’t get much of a reprieve. She definitely lives up to both her namesakes.

    Luckily, Dean and Cas have plenty of help.

    Mary is finally living with them for good and she loves to dote on her grandchildren. Dean can’t deny that there’s a little spike of jealousy at how devoted she is to them, but then he remembers that he wants his kids to have all the love in their lives that they can get. And he’s realized that in a way, caring for the babies is part of how Mary shows her love for him.

    Sam and Rowena are great with them as well, and since they all live together, they’ve taken on an active role in raising them. Dean realizes that although they’re not quite a second set of parents to his children, they are more than just aunt and uncle. And Rowena definitely has earned the title of aunt, despite not being related by blood or marriage yet. Somehow, despite her past, she’s shown a very motherly side to herself. Dean has no doubt in his mind that she loves Charlie and Jack fiercely. He’s also sure that she and Sam are ridiculously  _ in _ love with each other.

    It isn’t until about a month after Charlie’s birth that he remembers the original deal they had with Rowena. He walks into the library as she and Sam organize a huge mess of spellbooks, and his eye catches the Grimoire.

    “Huh, that old thing,” he comments. Sam and Rowena look up and follow his eyes. “Technically, that’s yours now,” he says to Rowena. She stares at him blankly. “Y’know. The deal? Healthy baby for big, evil spellbook?”

    “Oh, right,” she says, a bit unenthusiastically.

    “So, got any big plans for it?” Dean asks, amused by his own antics. “World domination?”

    “Well… I would if it were mine, but it’s not.”

    “What do you mean?” Sam asks.

    She sighs dramatically and looks up at the ceiling. “ _ We _ made a deal, but the Grimoire had no say in it. That book  _ chooses _ its owner and unfortunately, the book has chosen Sam.” She smiles and shrugs. “I could take off with it, but it would never work properly, not out of the hands of its proper owner. It would be a waste of my precious time.”

    Sam laughs. “That’s a lie, and not even a good one. That’s maybe the worst lie you’ve ever told.”

    “Oh, what do you know?” Rowena scolds. “You’re just an apprentice.”

    “All right, I believe you. The book ‘ _ chose _ ’ me,” Sam says, humoring her. “So, what’s your plan then?”

    She purses her lips. “I’ll just have to stick around until you die, so  _ I _ can inherit it next.”

    “Oh.” Sam takes her hand, suddenly a little serious. “So, you’re going to stay here until then?”

    She smiles. “Well, I can’t be letting it choose someone else now, can I?”

    “Hey,” Dean pipes up from the other side of the table, where he’s sure he’s been forgotten in the midst of this gooey love-fest. “You could try marrying in for it.”

    Sam flushes bright red. “Mmm,” Rowena says, swiping a thumb along his jaw. “That I could. Who knows?”

    “How’s it going in here?” Mary walks in, holding little Charlie.

    Cas follows with Jack and looks around at the mess. “Did you guys get anything done?”

    “They’ve been too busy flirting,” Dean wisecracks. He takes Charlie from Mary. “Hey, baby girl.”

    Cas rolls his eyes. “Guys. I know we defeated the first Men of Letters attack, but there’s still work to do. The others  _ will _ come for us at some point, and Lucifer is still out there as well.”

    “Yeah, well at least we’ll have Mick on our side. And the angels, finally.”

    It turns out that Joshua, well-respected in Heaven, had been able to change the attitudes regarding hybrid children. It had taken time, but he had finally gotten through to them. The angels now seemed to believe, for the most part, that children like Jack and Charlie were the future of angel-kind, and that it was their responsibility to protect them. Personally, Dean thinks that’s a little creepy and maybe too much pressure on his kids as they grow older, but it sure beats the alternative where everyone is out to kill them. He hopes the angels won’t change their minds once they find out that his children’s biggest talents right now are eating, pooping, sleeping, and being downright adorable, even when they need a diaper change.

    “By the way, did you know you guys got a package?” Mary asks.

    Dean pulls a face. “What the hell? Really?”

    “Yeah, I’ll grab it real quick.”

    She comes back with a big box clearly marked for Dean and Cas. Dean passes Charlie back to Mary and gets to work opening it.

    It’s a package entirely full of baby gifts. There are toys, clothes, blankets…all kinds of things. “Hey Cas, will you get a load of this?” Cas looks over Dean’s shoulder, showing Jack all of his new things, even if Jack can’t possibly understand the concept of a gift yet. “Wow, this is great,” Dean continues, pulling item after item out of the box.

    “Oh, look at this!” Rowena says, grabbing for a stuffed bear with little wings on the back. “A little angel.”

    Mary laughs a little. “Cute. Appropriate.”

    “Man, look at all this stuff. Who the hell sent all this?” When they reach the bottom of the box, they find a little note at the bottom. Dean reads it aloud, making commentary only with his facial expressions as he recites the…colorful text.

    “‘Squirrel. Feathers.

    “‘I hear you’ve successfully created one spawn and adopted another. Congratulations. I’m sure that parenthood will be everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and not a dreadful sleepless bore. Since I’m sure you’ll need all the help you can get, I’ve sent you a few things that will hopefully make it easier for you. Don’t say I never gave you anything.

    “‘Maybe at some point, you’ll see fit to introduce us. Preferably, when they’re older. As long as I don’t have to smell them, I’d be happy to make their acquaintance.

    “‘Sincerely, Crowley.’”

    “Fergus?” Rowena exclaims. “My son sent that?”

    “That was nice of him,” Cas says, unconcerned by the abrasive tone of the note that is true to Crowley.

    Dean’s brow wrinkles as he tries to piece everything together. “Yeah, but how did he even know?” He turns to Rowena. “Did you tell him?” The question is not an accusatory one; even if Rowena did let it slip, she’s done more than enough to make up for it.

    “Me? Heavens, no. He really sent that?” she asks, grabbing the note. “No, I didn’t tell him,” she says, skimming through it once more. She smiles a little as she reads it over, then hands it back to Dean. “Although, maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and get along.”

    “Really?” Dean asks. “Why?”

    “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose the whole mother-son rivalry is just growing a wee bit old. No longer interesting, really.” She flutters her lashes, a mischievous glint suddenly present in her eyes. “Besides, it seems like the right time, especially now that, well…” She looks down coyly, bringing a hand to her stomach.

    Dean nearly chokes on air as he realizes what she’s implying. Mary’s eyes are as wide as saucers, Cas looks…way more pleased than he should be actually, and Sam looks like he’s about to pass out.

    Her serious face breaks into an evil grin. “Ha! Got you, didn’t I!” The whole room breathes a sigh of relief as she cackles. “That would be far too many babies at one time under one roof. Maybe once the wee angels are older,” she says, stroking Sam’s hair to calm him. “And Lucifer is finally sorted out.”

    Dean really didn’t want to see Sam’s “let’s make a baby” eyes, but the image is there now, forever implanted in his brain.

    Thankfully, they manage to stay decent in the company of others. The conversation quickly sweeps into “how do we defeat Lucifer?” territory, which is great, but Dean has hashed this out far too many times lately to listen to it again. He takes Charlie from Mary, who is now in an animated debate with Rowena about the best way to “rip Lucifer’s fucking wings off,” and he and Cas retreat to the nursery.

    They lay the kids down to sleep for the night and then take a relaxed stroll around the Bunker, just wandering the halls aimlessly with their shoulders brushing. It’s quiet in the upper hallways, away from the raucous conversation that can just barely be heard from this distance. Dean realizes that they’re finally settled into their new life without any immediate threat looming overhead. Yeah, there’s dark stuff out on the horizon, but it’s not imminent. This is the new normal.

    He looks over at Cas. “Are you happy?” he asks suddenly, needing to be sure that this is really the life his partner wants.

    Cas seems to be alarmed at the very concept of the question. “Of course, Dean,” he says. “You really have to ask?”

    “I just mean…as a human and everything. No connection to Heaven and all that.”

    Cas stops where he stands and Dean does as well. “Dean, I could not imagine a better life for myself. I love you, I love our children, and yes, I love being human. It’s not always easy, no, but I don’t want to go back to being an angel. This is my life now, and I’m glad to be in it.”

    Cas’s response sucks the air out of Dean and suddenly, he knows it’s finally the right time. He reaches around in his pocket and pulls out the small box he’s been carrying around for the past two weeks.

    “Cas,” he says, getting down on one knee. “I swore to you a while ago that I’d do this sober, with a ring. Well, that time is now.” He looks down, searching for the right words, but he doesn’t find them there on the floor. He looks back up, and Cas’s shining eyes give him everything he needs. “You and I have a great life together and knowing it makes you happy is all I need to know I want to do this.” He opens up the box, revealing a thick gold ring with two tiny diamonds embedded. “Wanna make it official?”

    Cas examines the ring. “Dean, it’s beautiful. Why two diamonds—?”

    “One for Charlie, one for Jack. Our family.”

    Cas smiles—a real, rare, genuine smile with the teeth showing and everything. “I accept,” he says, like the total fucking dork that Dean loves like crazy, “with one condition.”

    “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

    The last thing Dean expects if for Cas to get down on a knee and pull out a ring of his own, but that’s exactly what he does.

    It’s a simple gond ring, a lot like his mom’s. “Cas,” he breathes, totally shocked. “Wait,” he says, leaning forward, “what’s that say?” There’s an inscription on the ring that he missed at first glance.

    “‘My greatest duty…and joy,’” Cas reads.

    Dean is at a loss for words.

    “So you’ll always know that I am not bound to you just by a mission, but by love.”

    Dean laughs the tiniest bit.

    “What?” Cas asks. His face grows worried. “Did I do it wrong? I just thought—”

    “No, Cas, it’s fucking perfect,” Dean murmurs and closes the gap for a tender kiss. And he means it.

 

    It’s perfect.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, what a crazy ride! Technically this is the last chapter, but I'll soon be posting a little half-chapter epilogue to wrap up a few more loose ends. I hope you've all enjoyed, and hopefully you'll stick around for the last little piece ;)


	33. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to profound-boning for beta-ing! http://profound-boning.tumblr.com

_ One year later… _

    “Do you think they’re all right?” Cas asks anxiously, rolling his suitcase up toward the Bunker door. Dean follows close behind with his own—a shabby, old faded bag that he should just get rid of, but hasn’t gotten around to replacing yet in his whirlwind of a life.

    “Cas, man, you gotta calm down. You’ve asked that, like…five times already. They’re fine.”

    “I know, but—”

    “It’s been a little over a week, Cas, not a month. ‘Sides, Sam and Rowena are expert babysitters by now. Mom, too.”

    “I just don’t like being away from them for long,” Cas says.

    Dean stops. “You had a good time, though, right?”

    “Of course, Dean. I cherish our moments alone together.” Cas leans in and catches Dean’s lips reassuringly. He pulls away with a serious expression. “But now I want to see our children.”

    Dean laughs. “Okay.” He throws an arm around Cas’s shoulder and they enter the Bunker together.

    Their family is right downstairs in the map room. “Oh, clever girl,” Dean hears Rowena say. Over the railing, he can see Charlie on her lap, entangled in a cloud of Rowena’s bright red hair. His daughter reaches out and piles more hair on her head, over her own dark hair, laughing with Mary, who sits right beside them. Rowena nods approvingly. “You know, darling, Auntie Roro could make you a ginger for real if you wanted.”

    “Only if you have a death wish,” Dean jokes. Rowena looks up at him with a cheeky smile.

    “Hey, you guys,” Sam greets, a big smile on his own face. Jack sits in his lap, gently patting the head of a stuffed animal—a frog that Dean has never seen before. “How was the honeymoon?”

    “What, getting ready for your own?” Dean teases, even though Sam and Rowena are only newly engaged. “Ugh, it was fantastic,” Dean exclaims. “Jacuzzis, swimming pools, little mints. Three-star hotels all the way to the West Coast!” Dean and Cas leave their suitcases propped up against the railing, and they come down the stairs.

    “I haven’t seen the Grand Canyon since I helped my father create it. It was quite magnificent,” Cas chimes in.

    “And then the beach! Sand between my toes, Sam. Sand between my toes.” He reaches out and takes Jack. “How’s my little guy, huh?”

“Da da!” Jack gives Dean a big kiss on the cheek and then starts playing with the two gold bands on his finger. “Oooh.”

    “Daaa!” Charlie yells and reaches up for Cas, who gladly takes her.

    “Were they good?” Cas asks.

    “Perfect angels,” Mary says.

    Rowena lets out a laugh at the pun, a little huff of air through her nose as her mouths desperately tries to contain a smile. She fiddles with her hands in her lap a bit, now empty. “Do we have to give them back?” she jokes. She opens her mouth to say something else, but then, looking around the room, seems to think better of it. Dean glances at Cas at this weirdness, but Cas seems unconcerned, so Dean moves on.

    “Hey, baby boy, did you miss us?” Dean asks. Jack smiles and lets out a big, happy yawn as a response. “Hmm, looks like someone’s bedtime. It’s getting late.”

    “Noooo,” Charlie cries.

    “Yessss,” Dean cries back to her.

    Rowena jumps up. “I’ll take them,” she says quickly.

    “Uh, okay,” Dean says, caught off guard. She picks up Charlie in one arm and Dean puts Jack in the other.

    Rowena’s been acting weird and dodgy the past month, and Dean’s not really sure why. She’s definitely in good spirits, so he wouldn’t say that he’s  _ worried _ per se, but he is confused. Sam also seems to be surprised by her cheery, almost caffeine-jittery behavior, but more amused than anything, so Dean figures everything is okay.

    They reconvene in the kitchen, Rowena joining them a minute later after the kids are in bed. Mary pulls out a bottle of wine. “Drinks, anyone?”

    “Yes, please,” Cas says.

    “Nah, beer for me,” Dean says.

    “Rowena? Sam?” Mary asks, retrieving glasses.

    “Oh, no thanks, dear. None for me,” Rowena says, picking a little bit at her nail.

    Sam takes a seat next to where she’s standing. “Me either, not tonight.”

    They gather around the table, some sitting, others standing, namely Dean, who hovers around Cas’s chair, and Rowena, who leans against the table next to Sam. She stares blankly at the wall, deep in thought.

    “Well, as great of a time we had, it’s good to be home,” Dean says, brushing off this oddness as well. After all, it is late. “Wow, it feels like everything’s gone by so fast.”

    “Well, it’s been a busy year,” Mary reminds him. “The second Men of Letters attack, getting Lucifer back in the Cage, you two getting  _ married. _ ”

    “You know what they say,” Sam comments. “Time goes fast when you’re saving the world and making lifelong commitments.”

    Dean laughs. “Yeah, that’s true. So, uh, how’s it been around here the past week? Give us the highlight reel.”

    “Crowley came by to say hi,” Sam says. “Brought more presents.”

    “He’s spoiling them,” Cas says. “Every time he visits, he brings them something.”

    “Yeah, well these guys spoil them, too,” Dean points out, gesturing to Mary, Sam, and Rowena with his beer bottle.

    “Still,” Cas says, “we can’t thank you enough for watching them this week.”

    “It’s no trouble at all,” Sam insists. “Really. We love it.”

    Rowena perks up a bit, eyes brushing over Sam. “We do.” She steels herself, though Dean isn’t sure for what. “Besides,” she says, “it’ll be good practice.”

    “For what? Hairdressing?” Dean jokes, referring to the way Charlie was playing with her hair earlier.

    “No…” She turns, facing her fiancé. “Sam,” she says seriously, grabbing his hand. Slowly, hesitantly, she brings his hand up to her belly and waits for a response.

    “Wait…” Sam breathes, realization dawning on his face. “Wait, really?”

    “Mmhmm.” She nods happily, barely containing a smile.

    Dean finally pieces two and two together, and now that it’s been pointed out to him, he  _ does  _ see the beginnings of a bump on her slender frame.

    “But…you’re pregnant?  _ Really _ ?” And it’s not until she confirms it for a second time that Sam seems to fully get it. “But—but when? How long?” He exclaims, a huge grin practically splitting his face. 

    “A little over three months. I didn’t keep it from you for long,” she amends quickly. “I didn’t even realize it until a ways in. Wasn’t even sure it was possible really, being over three hundred years old and all.”

    In this time, Sam has stood up, a look of wild, unfettered awe in his eyes. As Rowena finishes speaking, he pulls her into a deep kiss. “Oh my god. A baby.”

    She giggles. “Yes, love.” Sam situates himself behind her and wraps his arms around her, one giant hand anchored to her belly. She looks at the rest of them. “I knew I couldn’t keep it much longer from you lot, either, so I was just waiting for the right time.”

    “Whoa! Congrats, you guys.” Dean is over-the-moon thrilled. He knows Sam has wanted a family all his life, and with the way he’d been taking care of Jack and Charlie lately, Dean had suspected he was ready for kids of his own. 

    Mary bolts up from the table. “We have to celebrate properly. Let me find you something you  _ can  _ drink.” She hurries off to the fridge and returns with two more glasses and a bottle of sparkling grape juice and—ohhh,  _ that’s _ why Rowena had been buying that stuff lately. No grown up wine for her for a while. 

    “So, it’s for real this time,” Dean teases, thinking back to the various pranks Rowena had pulled from time to time. Pranks that stopped about half a year ago when, for the first time, Sam’s reaction had been more disappointed than amused.

    But that’s all in the past now. All the tricks and the laughs have become something real, something amazing. And Rowena and Sam are going to be starting a new life together, both literally and figuratively, just the way that Dean and Cas have.

    Everyone settles back around the table. Drinks are poured (both of the alcoholic and non-alcoholic variety), glasses are raised.

    Mary looks to Sam and Rowena. “One of you want to start?”

    Rowena, true to form, still can’t take anything too seriously. “To my exceptional ovaries, somehow still fertile after hundreds of years.” She looks all too pleased at everyone’s grossed-out faces. Except for Sam, somehow still looking totally enamoured. “Dear?”

    “To our kid,” Sam says with a laugh. “Wow, still can’t believe it…”

    “To another  _ grand _ kid. Talk about unbelievable,” Mary says. 

    Cas raises his glass. “To another Winchester.” He looks over to Dean and smiles. 

    Dean smiles back and takes his free hand. “To family.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a wild ride! Thank you all so much for sticking with me. I really hope you enjoyed the last little piece of this story. I may be taking a short break from writing for a while, just to regroup and get a new story started, but I hope you'll all join me when that time comes. Until then, I'd just like to reiterate how grateful I am for all of your lovely kudos and comments that kept me writing all this time. I'm so proud of this story, and it could not have happened without you.
> 
> Also, big thank you to my beta profound-boning, who came in about halfway through the story and totally saved my skin!
> 
> As always, please leave comments and let me know what you thought. Especially now that the story is over, I'd love to chat with you all, answer questions, and hear your opinions!
> 
> Thank you for being a wonderful audience. I'll miss this story, but I look forward to the next!


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